


Brothers (And Sisters) In Arms

by ConnectingSmallDots



Category: The Musketeers (2014)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Police, Aramis has a wicked car, Athos does a bit of drinking, Athos is moody, Bad references, Based on episodes, Bucket load of Taylor Swift, D'Artagnan is not allowed to be funny ever again, Did I mention how much Portamis is in this?, Gen, I love Aramis' character so much, Lots is the answer, Porthos and Aramis are oblivious idiots in love, Swearing, The girls are 'Musketeers' too, Trigger warning: mention of rape and stds in chapter 5, Way too much description about room doors, he's so much fun to write and make do dangerous stuff
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-03-26
Updated: 2014-07-22
Packaged: 2018-01-17 02:33:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 33,931
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1370707
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ConnectingSmallDots/pseuds/ConnectingSmallDots
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Modern Police Musketeers.<br/>Athos, Aramis and Porthos are members of the specialist police force nicknamed 'The Musketeers'.</p><p>Chapter One: Based on Friends and Enemies<br/>Chapter Two: Loose basing on Sleight Of Hand<br/>Chapter Three: Follows the rough plot line of Commodities<br/>Chapter Four: A slightly accurate modern interpretation of The Good Soldier<br/>Chapter Five: Very vague adaptation of The Homecoming.<br/>Chapter Six: Takes the plot of The Exiles but mainly focuses on the boys.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter One: Friends And Enemies

When Porthos rolls over,- about 3am, alarm ringing all through the garrison- he doesn't quite expect to find someone standing by his bed, leaning over him. It takes him a moment to figure out who it is but he closes his eyes when he does.

"Aramis, can't someone else get it?" Porthos groans and is replied to with a soft chuckle.

"No, lazy bones. Up you get." Aramis grabs the covers Porthos is using and pulls them off, dumping them on the floor out of reach.

"Dammit, mate. I'm only in boxers." Porthos complains as the chill hits him like a truck. 

"All the more reason to get up. Treville wants to see us in five which means ten for us because Athos is puking half his body weight again." Aramis runs a hand through his hair and switches on the lamp on Porthos' beside table. It's one of those old bulbs so it takes a while for it to reach full brightness but Porthos groans anyway. 

"How much did he drink last night?" He asks, swinging his legs off the bed and getting up while Aramis opens his wardrobe and tosses his uniform towards him. 

"Well, someone's drunk our entire beer stash- all thirty-six bottles- and half the vodka bottle is in the sink." Aramis frowns and leans against the doors while Porthos pulls on his trousers and a shirt.

"We should leave him here if he's like this. He's not going to be sober." The darker man shakes his head and zips up his jacket over his 'armour'. (A rather stupid joke that links back to their nickname of Musketeers.)

"And who will look after him?" Aramis reminds him softly, crossing the room and stepping out into the main room. He stops abruptly and Porthos nearly crashes into him. 

Athos is curled up on the sofa, one arm hanging off with a wine bottle in hand and the other hugging a cushion to his chest. 

"Athos." Porthos steps round his friend to reach the man on the sofa and gently take the bottle from his hand. "You'll be alright without us, yeah?" 

There's no actual reply but silence normally says a lot around Athos so Porthos just interprets for the best.

"Come on, Aramis. Let's go." Standing up, Porthos ruffles Athos' hair and opens the door, stepping out into the block of houses that make up the garrison. It's like a giant square of homes with training faculties and libraries and a bar for long nights that need ends. The garden at the centre is more of a field used for practice than sitting and chatting like school children do.

Porthos is nearly pulled away by the group of agents that run past him but Aramis grabs the collar of his jacket to hold onto him as he shuts the door. 

The pair make their way to the ground below Treville's balcony where the man himself stands very sour faced.

"Guess who's having a tiff with his boyfriend." Porthos mutters and Aramis has to stifle a laugh. The 'boyfriend' being Cardinal Richelieu, the leader of police forces across the country and adviser to the head of the DST- Louis King. 

"You two, my office, now." Treville commands and moves into his office. Aramis and Porthos exchange glances, listening to the sound of disappearing footsteps of fellow agents before climbing the stairs and going inside.

"Where is Athos?" Treville questions the second Porthos shuts the door.

"Passed out on the sofa. He's having a rough night...morning." Aramis answers, defensive instantly as soon as his friend is topicalised.

"You see, he's also outside Paris, robbing and shooting innocent members of the public." Treville turns his computer screen around to show them footage.

"Bullshit." Porthos declares instantly. "That's not Athos." 

"You can't prove that, Porthos, until we have other evidence. This man has been declaring himself under Athos's name and we have nothing to suggest otherwise. His face is covered and no prints are left anywhere." Treville explains, sitting down heavily in his chair, resting his elbows on the desk.

"Bullshit." Porthos repeats. "Anyone who gives out their name after murder is a liar trying to damage someone else." 

"The Cardinal is having someone round to arrest him at midday. Keep him sober until then. I'll have men working on this." Treville dismisses them and Aramis opens the door, Porthos following soon after.

Once outside, Aramis kicks at the railings. "Who's doing this to him?" 

"Treville is working on it. They'll find out, Aramis." Porthos lays a hand on his shoulder and escorts him back to their house that way. 

They sit Athos up and sit either side of him, arms around him and each other as the sun rises and Paris awakens. They fall asleep like that until about 9:30.

"What's the affection for?" Athos inquires when he opens his eyes. 

"You drank half the vodka and all the beer." Aramis yawns, lifting his head of Athos' shoulder and untwining his fingers from Porthos'. "We're only caring."

"I must have done something truly horrible in a past life to deserve you two." Athos comments before standing up. "I'm gonna shower." He adds when Porthos watches him with raised eyebrows. 

The door slams and the familiar whir of the shower is just audible so Porthos and Aramis relax again; Porthos sitting at the end, leaning on the armrest, while Aramis lies against him with Porthos' arm around him.

"You didn't tell him." Porthos mutters against the top of Aramis' head. "Why not?"

"He worries. Wait 'till he's properly awake first." Which Aramis is definitely not because he falls asleep beside Porthos, his head sliding forward until he just sinks into Porthos' lap. 

Porthos chuckles and pets his friend's hair. Well, maybe not strictly friend because he doubts this is what friends do. But they haven't found need to discuss it so it shouldn't matter. 

'It is what it is,' one of Aramis' favourite quotes when discussing multiple things like relationships with women. He has a few of those. 

Athos returns after a while and Porthos is so caught up in thought he doesn't hear his friend emerge from the bathroom. 

"I'll make breakfast, shall I?" Athos says, rubbing his hair energetically with a towel. 

"You can't cook to save your life." Porthos points out and Athos just smiles.

"I'll just do some coffee then." He answers, only half his body visible as the breakfast bar cuts it off as he works, towel hung over his right shoulder so he can use both hands.

"I need to tell you something important." Porthos says finally, carefully moving Aramis off him and joining Athos on the stools. 

"And that would be?" Athos questions into his cup, staring at the caffeine like he's found all life's answers in it. 

"Treville called Aramis and me to his office about 4ish. Someone is going round doing murders and thefts… using your name." 

There's silence when Athos stares at Porthos rather confused.

"That's not me." He says, only slightly aware that that is obvious.

"I know it's not. But there's no other evidence and justice-" Porthos makes quotation marks with his free hand, "-must be preserved." 

"Bullshit." Athos snorts. "When's the Cardinal coming for me?"

This takes Porthos a little bit by surprise has he hasn't mentioned that yet but he just goes with it. "Midday."

\------------------------------------------

"I'm looking for Athos of the Musketeers." A young boy- no more than 23 which makes him young to them anyway- stalks into the garrison. He's quite thin, wearing brown leather and jeans with trainers and luminous laces. Also very tanned with hair that could be tied up easily and looks as though it often is.

Half way up the stairs to Treville's office to have a word, Athos turns round and Aramis and Porthos stop to turn after.

"I am he." Athos says calmly then raises his eyebrows when the boy pulls a gun out his jacket. "Have I done something to offend you, sir?"

Although not in common circulation, guns are quite a popular accessory for those looking to join their agency and Porthos can't help but wonder where the lad got his. His hand starts drifting to his own but Aramis reaches down and grabs his arm to stop him, shaking his head a little.

"Fight me." The boy doesn't answer the question, merely watching intently as Athos steps down to the ground.

"I don't want to hurt you." He points out and any other man would have jumped at the splintering of wood not even a centimetre of his face but not Athos. 

"Fight me or die on your knees!" 

"He is aware-" Aramis whispers as Athos fights off the lunatic, dodging his wild shots and kicks, "-that to kill him would be murder."

"We should probably stop him." Porthos agrees at the subtle suggestion and creeps up behind the boy before tasering him. 

The boy jerks and collapses to the ground on his knees, gun sliding out his grip.

"He nearly had you." Aramis claps Athos on the shoulder. 

"Rubbish." Athos rolls his eyes before the familiar sound of wheels on gravel echoes around and a team of men leap out a van. 

"Warrant?" Treville appears as suddenly as the men and is presented with a piece of paper. 

There's little more they can do than watch as Athos is cuffed and escorted into the van, the boy still on the ground at their feet.

"Bullshit." Porthos mutters and Aramis nods.

"Couldn't have put it better myself."

\-----------------------------------------

When D'Artagnan opens his eyes, he doesn't know where he is. It's dry, warm and comfortable so nothing like his journey to Paris and he can most definitely smell pizza. There's soft voices drifting from where he guesses must be the kitchen. 

He pulls the duvet he's under back and stands up, barefoot in a stranger's home. The room, however, looks fairly uninhabited so maybe it's a spare. 

He pulls his jacket back on, tying up his laces on his trainers before picking up his bag. He can sneak out surely.

The door doesn't squeak and neither does the floor as he creeps through a corridor with four other doors. Each has a sign written on, some more elaborate than others in different styles.

The first reads 'BATHROOM' in capital letters and there's nothing exciting about it.

The next reads 'Aramis' in a sharp font that looks like it's in italics. There's many things drawn around it in sharpie, most appear to be random items.

'Porthos' is written in the neatest letters but something about it's style suggests that it's not always been so tidy. There's also 'If the door is locked, it stays locked' scrawled on it followed by 'that means you, Aramis.' The comma done in a different colour like someone's added it. 

The final says 'Athos' in elegant curls of letters and D'Artagnan resists the urge to go in and smash everything. Because of Athos, his father is dead. Revenge is all he wants now he's in Paris.

On the wall at the back is a large painting beside the door D'Artagnan has emerged from and at the end of the corridor on the right- unlike the other doors on the left- is a frame with hinges. It's anyone's guess where the door is. Through the frame is a main room and the door is directly opposite the frame. The only thing blocking D'Artagnan's path is the sofa facing the sound of the voices and the table behind it. 

"The sentence could take months." 

"Or days. This is a secret arrest remember. The Cardinal executes when he feels he can get away with it."

"I'm trying to be positive, Aramis." 

"We can't be positive if we're doing nothing to find evidence." 

Peeking round the frame, D'Artagnan can see two men at the breakfast bar eating pizza. They both wear very somber expressions but he finds himself able to guess who is who just from their appearances and the door signs. Not that it matters, what matters is sneaking out. 

In truth, he doesn't do much sneaking as he just runs silently across the room and to the door, opening it.

"Going somewhere?" Porthos calls out to him and D'Artagnan sighs. So close.

"Come and have some pizza." Aramis adds and D'Artagnan turns round to find them watching him, munching on slices themselves.

"I don't like pizza." D'Artagnan lies.

"Yes you do. Get over here." Porthos pats the stool beside him and, rather reluctantly, D'Artagnan sits down and nibbles at the slice he's offered.

"Sleep well?" Aramis asks politely, just like he knows the boy already.

"You tasered me." D'Artagnan points out and Porthos chuckles. 

"You were going to kill an innocent man. Arrestable, that."

D'Artagnan slumps against the breakfast bar, his blood running cold. "He killed my father." He says softly and there's silence for a moment.

"That wasn't Athos. He's been with us the whole time." Aramis says eventually and D'Artagnan snorts.

"You're his friend. Of course you'd say that." Then in a sudden flash of anger, he stands up and causes his stool to fall down behind him. "You could have been there with him!" 

"Whoa. Hey. Relax." Aramis raises his hands to try and calm D'Artagnan down. "We all have no part in this." 

"Then what's that?" D'Artagnan points at the papers on the table by the empty pizza box. 

"Evidence of the fake Athos." Porthos picks up D'Artagnan's stool up and sits him down on it. "Care to help us?" 

"Why would I want to do that?" D'Artagnan stands up again but Porthos has his foot on the stool to keep it upright.

"Because then we'll find the man who actually killed your father." 

There's silence where they stare expectantly at D'Artagnan and he stares back.

Very slowly, D'Artagnan sinks down into his seat again. "Alright," he says, "where do we start?"

\-------------------------------------------

Constance Bonacieux is possibly the most surprising member of Treville's Musketeers. One of two girls- the other being Flea,- she hasn't failed a mission yet. Admittedly she hasn't been on a mission yet because she's never been needed. 

"Constance!" Flea yells after there's been several knocks on the door an muffled voices. Sleepily, Constance opens her eyes. 

"What?" She calls back, pushing loose strands of hair from her face; she could really do with a hairbrush right now.

"Porthos and Aramis are here to talk to you!" There's a few more soft words Constance doesn't catch before Flea adds, "and some really hot dude called D'Artagnan. It's about Athos."

Had Flea not had said hot dude then maybe Constance wouldn't have been so bothered by what she looked like but she is so she grabs a coat and hairbrush before she leaves, tugging at the knots in her hair as she exits her room and walks down the stairs. 

Her and Flea's apartment is the only one out of the entire garrison to have two floors. It's small though, a kitchen and a main room downstairs and two bedrooms and a bathroom upstairs. 

"Where's he got drunk now and how much does he owe D'Artagnan?" Constance yawns, entering the main room and rubbing at her eyes. She stops when she sees D'Artagnan because Flea's description is very correct; hot guy alert.

"Someone is framing Athos. We have reason to believe he belongs to a member of those wonderful members of S.P.A.I.N." Aramis explains and Constance turns her attention to him. 

"What? Why?" She frowns and Porthos tosses a coin towards her. It's not even really currency.

"That's one of their tokens. I won it off a guy in the Black Alley."

"You've been gambling again." Flea grins and Porthos laughs.

"It's cards. Not gambling." He says but subtly fist-bumps her. 

"Alright, but how does this help? Does it grow wings and show us where they are? What do you need me for?" Constance sighs, tying her hair up and setting the brush down on the table. 

"We need a way to get passed the guards; a distraction." D'Artagnan answers and Constance can feel herself blushing. Then it occurs to her what that means.

"Jesus, no!" She protests. "You think- what- no."

She gets ready in about an hour.

\------------------------------------------

In that hour, Porthos and Aramis chase up their S.P.A.I.N friend.

"I swear! I know nothing." The man cries, eyes darting to Porthos, then Aramis, then back.

Aramis has his gun raised and the man is tied to a beam in a barn. No one would ever know if he shot. 

"Oh, so there's no point to keeping you." Porthos smirks. "He's useless, Aramis." He claps his friend on the shoulder and Aramis' lips twitch into a smile.

"I guess I could just shoot then." Aramis concludes and the man whimpers.

"Please! I know nothing." He begs but they both know he's lying. 

There's a loud bang as Aramis pulls the trigger and the man cries out like he's been shot; he hasn't.

"Whoops. Forgot this was my starting pistol." Aramis laughs. "This is a real gun though." He adds, pulling it from his belt and raising it. 

"The abandoned castle on the wood outskirts. Half hour drive north from the city. Gaudet!" The man sobs and Porthos grins toothily.

"Thanks for that, mate." He says before he punches the man so hard he falls unconscious. They untie him and leave to fetch D'Artagnan and Constance.

\-------------------------------------------

"You have a girl's music taste." Porthos grumbles although he's smiling a little with his feet up on the dashboard of Aramis' car. 

The black Audi convertible is the most commonly used vehicle out of the two cars they share. Although, Porthos is quite often out on his motorbike.

"Feet off my dashboard." Aramis reminds him for the fifth time but he's tone shows he doesn't mind. 

"I like his taste." Constance says and Porthos looks round at her.

"Are you, or are you not, a girl?" He asks and she opens her mouth before closing it again, defeated.

"A little Taylor Swift is good for the soul." Aramis says and Porthos laughs so hard that D'Artagnan smiles despite being so confused.

"Aramis, you're hilarious." Porthos tells him when he finally starts breathing properly which then results in a very heated argument over whether men can listen to Taylor Swift.

"Guys." D'Artagnan says sharply then raises his voice when no one pays attention. "Guys!"

They fall silent and D'Artagnan points out to where the faint speck of orange can been seen among the trees. 

"Go go go!" Aramis urges, getting out the car which such speed that it leaves everyone else to race after him.

The four stop when they reach the edge of the trees and the castle, along with bridge and guard, comes into view.

"Go Constance. Be free." Aramis jokes and Constance glares before stepping out and walking toward the man. 

"Is this a good idea?" D'Artagnan murmurs. During the journey, he's had plenty of time to get to know Constance a little and she's a lovely woman. He most definitely doesn't have a crush on her.

"Course it is." Aramis snorts. "I made it." 

Porthos frowns before slipping out the tree and creeping up behind the man, knocking him out with a well aimed blow.

"Constance, wait in the car." D'Artagnan says once they reach her and start crossing the bridge to the camp inside the castle ruins.

"Why?" Constance frowns.

"Because I don't want you to get hurt." D'Artagnan shoves her gently back towards the trees before dashing after Aramis and Porthos.

He halts by them where they are peering round into the camp. At the centre, near the fire, Aramis can recognise Gaudet, the deserter Musketeer.

"Those men will try and kill us. We have to use the element of surprise." He says quietly before, ignore the advice, D'Artagnan launches himself from the cover.

The men and Gaudet notice instant and start shooting at them.

"So much for surprise." Aramis sighs before throwing himself to the fray as well. 

While they aren't aiming to kill, the men certainly are and it leads to several tricky situations.

D'Artagnan finds himself with his back against the wall and no where else to go suddenly. The loud shot from above him reveals Constance on a higher level, shooting from above. She waves at him before disappearing from sight. 

Regaining himself from the slight surprise, D'Artagnan charges at Gaudet, the man who killed his father. His hearts pounding in his ears and every seems to slow down as he catches the man from behind and holds his gun against his skull.

"I'm not scared to shoot." He hisses and Gaudet freezes, his own weapon sliding out his hands.

The fighting ends there as Gaudet's men turn tail and flee. Aramis helps Porthos to his feet and Constance scales down the wall to join them. 

"Let's get him to Treville. Then we can get Athos home." Porthos smiles and D'Artagnan feels ever so slightly intimidated by the show of teeth. 

"Shit!" Aramis swears before answering a phone call he's getting. "Captain?" 

They walk back to the car in silence, Gaudet tossed over Porthos' shoulder because he refused to co-operate. Aramis is a few paces ahead, talking quickly. 

"What's going on?" Constance asks, shivering. D'Artagnan takes off his jacket before hanging it over her shoulders.

"I think he's explaining the situation for the trail… over the phone." Porthos guesses, trying to read his friend's body language to interpret what's going on. 

Aramis unlocks the car for the others but walks past it to continue the call. 

"Get in the car." Porthos sets Gaudet down and shoves him in. 

"Not going to put me in the boot?" Gaudet laughs so Porthos punches him. 

"Don't make me consider it." He answers. "D'Artagnan, sit in the middle, would ya?" It's very much rhetorical so D'Artagnan makes no resistance, sliding into the car and strapping himself in the middle. Constance sits beside him and the two move as far away from Gaudet as they can. 

"Should I put the roof down?" Porthos asks, fiddling with the music selection because he will not put up with Aramis' music on the way home too. 

"Constance will probably freeze." Aramis appears suddenly and answers before D'Artagnan can say the same thing. 

"What was-" Porthos starts but Aramis already knows the question.

"Athos is free. We just need to bring Gaudet in and do an exchange." The musketeer slides into his seat and closes the door, turning on the car. "Porthos, you shit." He adds when the music starts. "At least put Muse on or something." 

"There is nothing wrong with a bit of Kansas, 'Mis." Porthos folds his arms and places his feet back on the dashboard, closing his eyes. 

"How do I put up with you?" Aramis sighs, turning the car round and driving back the way they came.

"Because you love me." Porthos answers without really thinking about it. When Aramis says nothing in response, he opens one eye and can just about see Aramis blushing in the darkness.

"Are they always like that?" D'Artagnan whispers to Constance who nods sleepily.

"Athos and I are planning on locking them in a room together until they kiss one day." She yawns, head dropping onto D'Artagnan's shoulder and he loops an arm around her waist. 

"Musketeers are all the same." Gaudet mutters. "Oblivious, pinning maniacs who can't do their job."

Gaudet spends the rest of the journey in the boot.

\-------------------------------------------

"God dammit. I thought I was rid of you three for once." Athos looks up when they enter the station. He can't keep the smile off his face however which rather ruins the comment.

"Hi." Aramis smiles at the woman behind the desk. "I'd like to trade this one-" he shoves Gaudet forward, "-for that one." He jerks a thumb towards Athos who rolls his eyes.

"If you could kindly take the whole procedure seriously, then yes." The woman glares, getting to her feet and opening the cell door.

"I apologise, madam, for my friend's inappropriate behaviour." Athos gets up and walks out the cell, nodding curtly to the guard who doesn't even blink at the kindness.

"Put him in here and get out my station." She says and they politely oblige.

Once outside, Constance throws herself at Athos, hugging him tightly. "You stupid fool. I'm so glad you're alright." 

D'Artagnan can't help but feel a little jealous until Constance pulls away and stands beside him again. He can see the brotherly/sisterly relationship clearer when they aren't hugging.

"Are you not the boy who-" Athos tilts his head toward D'Artagnan.

"Who helped save you. D'Artagnan. The pleasure is mine." D'Artagnan extends a hand and Athos shakes it, the corners of his mouth turned up. 

"You had to work with these too and you haven't gone mad. I believe the pleasure is mine." Athos says calmly and is promptly pulled into a massive hug by Porthos and Aramis.

Constance rolls her eyes and steps a little closer to D'Artagnan, their hands brushing as the three mutter things and laugh. 

"Do you have anywhere to stay?" Constance asks and D'Artagnan frowns.

"I could go home but I'd much rather stay in Paris." His eyes travel to the three men again as he answers. "Become a musketeer."


	2. Chapter Two: Sleight Of Hand

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Loosely based on episode two: Sleight Of Hand.
> 
> D'Artagnan goes undercover, Porthos changes is ringtone and Athos is, once again, 300% done.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I started off by sticking very close to the plot but I got bored so the end is very short. I'm terribly sorry but I think the end is hilarious.  
> Also, I mean no disrespect because I love Taylor Swift and Brokeback Mountain is probably a very good film. Harry Potter definitely is.
> 
> Warning: I ship Portamis very hard and this will be very clear.

"One, two, three, four." D'Artagnan mutters, practicing his routine carefully, sweat glistening all over his body.

"Aim higher." Athos calls from the other side of the gym, jogging casually on the running machine. 

"Why?" D'Artagnan calls back, the exhaustion showing in his voice.

"So when you're tired, your blows will still be a good height." Comes the reply and D'Artagnan opens his mouth to protest that it's too hard when the doors are blown off their hinges. 

Porthos and Aramis lay among the shattered wood, rolling around like fighting teens, yelling and kicking and scratching. 

Athos sighs. Why must he always be the sensible one?

"I'm going to kill you, cheater." Porthos spits and Aramis laughs.

"I'd like to see you fucking try." 

"Gentlemen." Athos says calmly and they both freeze. Porthos has Aramis pinned down against the floor and his hand is raised like he's about to punch him. "Mario Kart is not that serious a game."

Porthos gasps dramatically and Aramis shoves him off to get up.

"Athos, you have no idea how serious Mario Kart is." He says and Porthos nods vigorously. 

"You broke a door." Athos ignore this and points towards the remains of the wood.

"We have spares in the cupboard." Porthos shrugs. "I'll go get one." He gets to his feet and leaves. D'Artagnan notices that his hand brushes Aramis' a little as he goes but says nothing.

"How's the little D'Art doing?" Aramis turns his attention to D'Artagnan and the boy sighs.

"I think this much training is illegal." He says and Athos smiles.

"You volunteered to do this." 

This being an undercover mission to discover and sabotage the terrorist activity lead by Vadim. D'Artagnan seemed like the best option because, well, he's not a qualified musketeer yet.

"What happened to the door?" Captain Treville walks past then reverses, staring at them over the wreckage.

"It's alright. Porthos is getting another one now." Aramis smiles, waving a little just to be silly. Treville looks at him suspiciously before walking on. His expression says this is rather a common occurrence.

D'Artagnan starts his routine again and Athos and Aramis watch.

"Aim higher." They say together and D'Artagnan groans, collapsing to the floor. It's harder than he thought it would be.

\------------------------------------------

"You don't have to do this." Athos says quietly, eyes darting from D'Artagnan to the jail entrance. The guard stands ready beside them, chatting idly to Porthos who he seems to know through some strange bar incident.

"I want to." D'Artagnan insist and Athos nods.

"You remember where Constance is staying this week? Go there if you get out and you're in trouble. At least one of us will be there most evenings." Aramis claps the boy on the shoulder and D'Artagnan processes that before smiling.

"Alright. Let's go." He says to the guard who grabs him by the back of his jacket and hauls him away.

"Was this the right thing to do?" Porthos asks once the jail door is slammed shut. 

"We'll soon find out." Athos frowns, stuffing his hands in his pockets. "Coffee anyone?"

\-------------------------------------------

"Ow! Ow! Do you mind?" D'Artagnan yelps as the guard drags him down the stairs and he's not acting. This is genuinely painful.

"Shut up." The guard drawls before opening the correct cell and throwing D'Artagnan inside. He lands very heavily against the wall and groans. The door is slammed behind him and he sits up, glaring through the bars. 

Vadim watches him from the corner. The light streams in through the window above him and flows down like a waterfall across him. He flicks a small coin in the air and catches it repeatedly. He is every bit as intimidating the flesh as his picture and a small shiver runs down D'Artagnan's spine. 

The coin reflects spots of light into the darker patches as it spins, the gentle sound of the catch the only sound now the guard is gone. 

The coin flies up again then vanishes; D'Artagnan tilts his head. 

"How'd you do that?" He asks, surprised. Magic tricks like that are impressive. 

"It's all about making people look the wrong way." Vadim smiles before opening his other hand to reveal the coin. D'Artagnan has never been so scared yet so in awe at the same time.

At dinner, D'Artagnan makes a little more progress with Vadim.

"What is this?" He asks, pushing the food around the bowl. 

"Sheep." The guard returns, his expression a mixture of boredom and hate. Hate for the prisoners or his job, D'Artagnan isn't sure.

"No." He pulls one of the meat chunks out the stew by its tail. "Sheep is the one that goes baa." 

Vadim snorts and the guard bends down and pulls D'Artagnan forward so he's squashed against the bars and his food lands on the floor.

"Watch your tongue, boy, or you may have a rather unfortunate accident." The guard lets him go and draws a finger across his neck before stalking away.

Vadim laughs once. "What are you in here for, boy?" He asks, setting his own bowl down and pulling his coin out again. 

"My name is D'Artagnan." D'Artagnan replies huffily and Vadim nods.

"Alright. What are you in here for, _D'Artagnan_?" He places emphasis on the name at the end, flipping the coin high and catching it just before it hits the floor. 

"Shot a musketeer. Bastards can't even handle minor wounds." D'Artagnan lies, using the cover story Treville had given him.   
If Vadim doesn't believe him, he doesn't show it. 

"They think they're so important because chicks dig a guy in leather." He agrees and flips the coin to D'Artagnan. "You'd do anything to get revenge, wouldn't you? I can see it in your eyes."

D'Artagnan tries to ignore how creepy that sound, nodding. "Anything."

"You're in luck then, my dear friend. Just you wait until morning." Vadim smiles slyly before settling down and closing his eyes. 

\-------------------------------------------

"You let D'Artagnan go! Why can't I ever do anything?" Constance complains, leaning over the three men on the sofa. 

"Because you're our friend. D'Artagnan is, well-" Aramis doesn't get to finish his sentence because Constance slaps him hard. When Porthos laughs, she hits him too and stalks out, slamming their door behind her. 

"I love that in a woman." Aramis sighs, rubbing his cheek. Athos rolls is eyes.

"What? Passion?" Porthos asks, chuckling and ruffling Aramis' hair.

"Violence." Aramis corrects him, batting his hand away. 

"Children, we should get ready. We have to escort Mrs King through the prison." Athos stands up and heads to his room, pausing by the door frame to give them both a look. 

"I've never understood that." Porthos admits, stretching and laying his arms across the back of the sofa, and subsequently around Aramis.

"Understood what?" Aramis questions, moving closer and resting his head on his friend's shoulder. 

"Why she lets people go. Half the time they only end up back in jail again." Porthos points out and Aramis tilts his head so he can look Porthos in the eye.

"Mercy is another quality I like. Forgiveness saves lives." He says and Porthos smiles. Something in the back of his mind wants him to lean down and kiss Aramis but he doesn't.

"Whatever you say, 'Mis." Porthos gets up and pulls Aramis with him. "Let's get ready before Athos gets really grumpy."

"I'll race you." Aramis challenges, a grin growing across his face.

"You'll just lose." Porthos retorts, running out the room. Aramis sprints after him, yelling "cheater".

They get changed in exactly the same time and Athos just rolls his eyes, opening the front door as they tear out the apartment like a couple of puppies. If they are dogs, he is most definitely the cat.

\---------------------------------------------

"D'Artagnan." Vadim hisses, throwing a stone at the boy to wake him. D'Artagnan jerks awake and Vadim waves the keys at him. _Where did he get those_ , D'Artagnan wonders, _where and how?_ Then he notices the guard on the floor where Vadim had slept last night. _Ah. That's where._

He feels a little guilty for the poor man, after all he is on his side but, as he gets to his feet and follows Vadim out the cell, he brushes the sympathy away.

"Vadim!" One of the other prisoners yells. "Let us out, mate."

D'Artagnan starts worrying a little then. Mrs King is freeing a few prisoners today. She could get hurt and he'd be involved.

"D'Artagnan." Vadim throws him the keys. "Free them."

Now he's definitely involved.

\--------------------------------------------

"I hope this gift helps you in your new life." Anne King smiles at the grubby line of prisoners before her as she hands them small bags of money. Porthos stifles a yawn then shrugs when Captain Treville frowns at him.

"I'm going to check on D'Artagnan." Athos whispers and Porthos nods, kicking Aramis to alert him to this. Aramis' reaction is delayed because he's staring at Anne like she's a goddess.

"'Mis." Porthos kicks him again. "Athos is gonna check D'Artagnan." 

"Oh right. OK." Aramis smiles before going back to his staring. Porthos rolls his eyes.

\-------------------------------------------

D'Artagnan can feel the blood pumping in his veins and his heart hammering. The light from the door is like a beacon for the prisoners who surge like a wave. D'Artagnan recognises one of the men at the door; Athos. 

So not only is Mrs King and Captain Treville here but Athos, Aramis and Porthos too undoubtedly. Brilliant. He's going to be in a lot of trouble but he needs to keep with Vadim.

"Prisoners escaping!" Athos yells and D'Artagnan curses. The shot rings in his ears like a warning from him; _they will shoot you too._

There's a great commotion outside as guards and musketeers race to help. All D'Artagnan can do is pray his friends are safe as he and Vadim sneak away to the back door. 

"Get back." He hisses and pulls Vadim behind the pillar as a guard runs by. Vadim smiles at him before they open the door and wait at the bottom of the steps.

"Protect Mrs King!" That's Treville's voice. This can only end badly now, surely.  
That's when Vadim hurtles up the steps and D'Artagnan follows, not wanting to be left behind. He grabs Anne and presses a gun to her neck.

"Nobody move!" He roars and everyone freezes. D'Artagnan can feel their eyes on him as he stands beside the criminal. 

"Back! Get back." Vadim orders and the guards and musketeers shuffle backward a little. 

Anne whimpers in Vadim's grip. D'Artagnan tries to keep his face blank. 

"Now open the gate." No one moves until Vadim shouts the command. "Open the gate or I'll shoot her." 

Treville looks to D'Artagnan now and he nods as subtly as he can, his head barely moving. Athos is giving him a look of such betrayal and doubt that he has to look back at Vadim. 

"Open the gate." Treville says finally and one of the guards dashes forward, unlocking the security codes and the gate swings forward.

"Vadim!" One of his follows yells from the driver seat of a truck, head out the window like a dog. 

Men leap out and surround Vadim, D'Artagnan and Anne, guns raised.

"Give them Anne. We don't need her. Let's go." D'Artagnan urges. He doesn't want to see her hurt because then there's no way out after this is over. Plus he's sure she's a lovely woman too but…

"Sorry about this dear." Vadim sneers at Mrs King and she tries to pull away, eyes focused on anything other than him. "You were just a very useful asset." He kisses her temple before shoving her forward. 

Shots fly and guards charge. D'Artagnan is vaguely aware of Aramis catching Anne before she falls and taking her to the side, keeping her out of danger. 

"Boy!" Vadim calls to him and D'Artagnan leaps into the back of the truck. The driver looks very annoyed about this but reeves the engine and the truck drives away, way over the speed limit.

Treville sighs. "What does he think he's doing?" He asks Athos who's face it's the perfect picture of 'I told you so'.

"Yet you still gave him the job." Athos turns on his heel and walks back to help sort out the prisoners.

"It's alright." He hears Aramis comforting Anne and instantly recognises the tone. He keeps walking. Very quickly. 

Porthos notices too and follows Athos, feeling the desire to either punch Aramis or throw up. 

\----------------------------------------------

"Felix is under the impression I'm wrong to have brought you with us." Vadim comments as the driver, apparently Felix, breaks his handcuffs. 

"'Cause he's a fuckin' musketeer, in he?" Felix protests, glaring at D'Artagnan.

"I'm not one of them." D'Artagnan spits. "I want to help you."

Vadim and Felix cross the hall- it's underground somewhere but D'Artagnan isn't entirely sure of where- and drop down beside him. 

Vadim grabs his hand suddenly and presses a knife down on his fingers. D'Artagnan yelps a little but doesn't struggle.

"So, I'm going to cut your fingers off until you admit to working with them." Vadim hisses, eyes glazed over with some type of anger that D'Artagnan recognises as the one he wore to Paris. He can feel the fury rise up inside and uses it to keep still as Vadim applies more pressure.

"What if I'm not?" D'Artagnan asks as Felix jerks his head around.

"You'll have to count on your toes." Vadim smiles and their eyes meet. D'Artagnan doesn't even blink as Vadim lifts the knife and brings it down… snapping his handcuff.

D'Artagnan shoves Felix off with his free hand as Vadim stands up, grinning.

"He's not lying, Felix. He might even be useful." 

"In what?" D'Artagnan asks, rubbing his wrists and watching as Vadim spins round in the empty room with his arms outstretched.

"Building a better DST for a better life." Vadim laughs and the sound echoes around the walls.

"How?" D'Artagnan is still a little confused.

"By blowing up Mr and Mrs King and their mansion and every power they hold in France."

_Like the French Guy Fawkes_ , D'Artagnan thinks, _like a mad, French Guy Fawkes who I'm helping._

He is well and truly screwed.

\--------------------------------------------

"Maybe she'll give us a medal." Porthos suggests, fiddling with the bottom of his jacket and shifting foot to foot. 

Mrs King wants to thank Aramis in person but very kindly allowed one friend to accompany him. Porthos translates this as 'you can bring a friend so we don't end up snogging'.

"Maybe she is actually very disappointed with us." Aramis points out. "She'll probably want to see us whipped."

Porthos laughs. "Bit kinky for someone so high up, don't you think?" 

They both start laughing so hard that Aramis looks like he's about to start crying. They hastily cover up, hands over their mouths but still giggling, when the doors open and Anne walks in, escorted by a maid. 

"Mrs King." Aramis drops a low bow and Porthos follows, rolling his eyes. 

"Sir Aramis." She greets him and Porthos nearly starts laughing again. Are these two even for real? Sir Aramis! Anne's eyes travel to him as he stands up again and she smiles. "Could I have a word alone?" 

_What was the point of letting him bring a friend?_ Porthos wonders. _How ridiculous._ He leaves all the same and stands outside the door, watching servants scurry past. 

Aramis comes out with a massive smile on his face which Porthos can't help but feel he wants to punch off.

"Set your sights a little lower, possibly." He sighs as they leave and Aramis chuckles.

"It's not my fault everyone is attracted to me." He protests and opens the driver's seat door, sliding in. Porthos gets in the other side and makes a point of putting his feet on the dashboard.

_Everyone including me,_ Porthos thinks bitterly and, for once, quite appreciates the angsty music Aramis has.

\--------------------------------------------

One of the perks of being a farm boy is D'Artagnan is very good at judging what's going on by sounds. The heavy breathing is Felix's but Vadim's breathing has moved and footsteps are gently echoing past him.

Opening one eye, D'Artagnan watches Vadim walk past before he gets to his feet and follows him. 

It's risky as there's CCTV absolutely everywhere so he has to grab a cloak from the floor as he leaves, pulling it over his head and keeping as quiet as he can.  
Vadim greets a woman on the stairs to some bar and disappears inside with her. 

"Well well well. You are a little spy, aren't you?" Felix creeps up behind D'Artagnan and presses a gun to his neck.

"No. I'm visiting my girlfriend actually." D'Artagnan covers quickly. 

"I don't believe you." Felix spits and D'Artagnan sees a police officer in the next street.

"I'll show you." He offers and then escorts Felix to the house Constance is staying in currently. 

"How do I know this isn't some random house?" Felix questions and D'Artagnan sighs. 

"Fine. Stay here." He crosses the road and knocks on the door.

Constance opens in and promptly throws herself at him. Her tone is anything but as friendly. 

"You bastard. I was so worried after you ran of Vadim." She hisses in his ear and D'Artagnan laughs.

"We're being watched. I'm sorry." He apologises before kissing her. Constance squeaks a little before returning the gesture rather gladly. 

"Come inside. Anyone could see you. They have wanted posters up like some old movie." She sighs, pulling back.

"Text Athos and the others. Lemme just lose our watcher and I'll be right back." D'Artagnan crosses the road to Felix, narrowly avoiding the bus. 

"I might be sometime." He winks and Felix narrows his eyes.

"I'll tell Vadim!" He sneers and D'Artagnan shrugs.

"Go ahead."

\---------------------------------------------

"D'Artagnan!" When the trio arrive, Porthos is first to spot the boy by the fire. D'Artagnan gets to his feet and allows himself to be hugged almost to death by Pothos then Aramis. Athos slaps him round the face.

"What the fuck?" D'Artagnan rubs his stinging cheek and takes a step back from the older man.

"I could ask you the same thing!" Athos yells. "What in the name of god were you thinking? We can't protect you if you're running round with Vadim. Dammit D'Artagnan." 

The anger subsides and Athos proceeds to hug D'Artagnan. He holds him by the shoulders when he speaks again.

"Please tell me you're not so stupid to think you're going back too."

"All I know is he wants to blow up King's mansion and take over DST. I don't know where the explosives are, where his men are, when he plans on doing it. I'll find out!" D'Artagnan begs.

Porthos looks at Aramis. Aramis looks at Athos. Athos takes the wine from Constance and pours himself a glass without looking back up.

"Please. You trusted me before; do you not trust me now?" 

There's silence in which Athos considers this. Slowly, he brings the glass to his lips and only when he's finished does he answer.

"Go." He says and D'Artagnan smiles before leaving, the door slamming behind him. 

Porthos starts laughing the second he's gone. Athos rounds on him but his eyes are soft and there's no really bite to his tone.

"What?"

"I gave him back his phone so he could just text us what was going on." Porthos sniggers, having to set his glass down because his entire body is shaking with laughter. "I changed is ringtone." Those four words set the man off in hysterics and Aramis and Athos exchange looks. 

"To what?" Aramis asks, still staring at Athos as if the man knows what on earth is funny.

"You singing Taylor Swift in the shower." Porthos chokes out and promptly falls off the sofa. Not because he's laughing but because Aramis pushes him.

"You fucking didn't!" He yells, throwing himself on top of Porthos and wrestling with him on the floor.

Athos rolls his eyes and drinks straight from the bottle. The words 'fuck it all' cross his mind several times.

\--------------------------------------------

When D'Artagnan opens his eyes, he can't move. His hands are tied behind him and his feet are chained to either side of the wall. It's not a very far wall mind.

"Lovely ringtone." Vadim comments calmly, fiddling with D'Artagnan's phone. "Where'd you get it I wonder because-" Vadim tilts his head, eyes staring piercingly at D'Artagnan, "-you can't have phones in jail." 

Ah. 

"Am I tied to explosives?" D'Artagnan asks, wriggling against the bonds. 

"Taylor Swift I believe." Vadim continues. "Although, she sounds awfully like a guy in the shower." 

If D'Artagnan were able to slap himself in the face, he would. No wonder Porthos looked so smug when he handed over his phone. 

"Ah well, no accounting for taste." 

"This is a bomb, isn't it?" D'Artagnan struggles some more and then gives up. Vadim nods. 

"It will blow you, and Louis King sky high."

This time, D'Artagnan nods. "Am I allowed to say you won't get away with this?" He asks and Vadim laughs.

"No. Because I will in fifteen minutes." Then he leaves, switching on the main light as he goes and D'Artagnan becomes painfully aware it's not one bomb but about ten. 

"Shit." He breathes. He really should have taken that course on bomb disarmament. 

Then his phone goes off. It's Aramis, he recognises instantly because the man is not a quiet shower singer. Now, if he can reach his phone then maybe he might survive.

\---------------------------------------------

"Your phone's dialling." Athos grunts from the back seat. He's normally in the back so he's used to it. He often takes this opportunity to sleep because Aramis invested in this blow up car mattress thing that levels it out and stops you falling down the foot gap. 

"Is it?" Aramis frowns. He's standing up on his seat, the roof of his car down and binoculars out like he can actually see anything through the darkness.

"Not you. Porthos. You're butt-dialling again." Athos kicks the back of Porthos' seat and receives protests from both men. Porthos shifts and pulls his face out before his face drops like a stone.

"Oh bugger." He whistles. "I hope D'Artagnan appreciates your singing, 'Mis." 

"What?" Aramis yelps, practically falling down into his seat. "Your butt called D'Artagnan! He's probably tied to a bunch of bombs right now because of you!" 

\-----------------------------------------------

"For fucks sake!" D'Artagnan yells. "Shut the fuck up, Aramis!" He's now fed up with listening to Aramis singing cheesy angst songs and the sound of water makes him want to piss. 

When his phone goes silent, he rather wishes it hadn't but then it goes to voicemail.

"D'Artagnan," that's Porthos, "I apologise for accidentally calling-" someone screams 'butt-dialling', "and realise you are probably a; dead or b; nearly dead. Apologies. We're tracking your phone but it would be damn helpful if you answered. Unless your dead then don't because ghosts are creepy."  
There's shuffling before the voice changes.   
"Never speak of the ringtone again." That's Aramis and the beep shows the voicemails end.

D'Artagnan sighs. "Answer the phone, Porthos says," he grumbles, "he's not the one on a bunch of bombs."

Still, despite the odds against him, D'Artagnan hooks his foot around his phone and kicks it towards him. Using his nose- very elegant and sophisticatedly- he calls Porthos back.

"I'm tied to the bombs." He says once Porthos picks up. "Tied to the bombs because Aramis sings girl songs in the shower." Then he's hit by a rather odd though for someone tied to explosives. "How did you get close enough to record that, Porthos?"

There's silence for a moment on the other end and D'Artagnan can picture their faces. Porthos with his mouth hanging slightly open, Aramis with wide eyes and Athos with his eyebrows raised.

"Anyway, can you guys help? I'm about to be blown to bits." 

"Athos is tracking you now." Aramis says slowly. "Porthos, I think we have something to discuss."

"Can we not do this now?" Porthos sighs, sounding rather nervous for once.

"No. I think this is important." Aramis protests.

"Aramis, D'Artagnan is going to die."

"And you recorded me singing in the shower. How close were you?"

"This is **not** the conversation I wish to be having right now."

"If you weren't that close then answering wouldn't bother you."

" _Jesus fucking Christ,_ " Athos sighs exasperatedly, "admit your love when there isn't a French Guy Fawkes about to blow D'Artagnan and the most powerful person in France up."

"And her husband." D'Artagnan jokes and he can hear Athos sighing again.

"D'Artagnan. If you make this out alive, I beg you- no, implore you- don't try and be funny."

\--------------------------------------------

About five minutes later, D'Artagnan is most definitely decided he's going to die. The gentle bleep behind him is rathe ominous and his battery has died so he can't even hear the faint hope of rescue. 

" _And I could tell you, his favourite colour's green,_ " it should probably be embarrassing that he'll die singing Taylor Swift but it's in his head and now is as good a time to not care, " _he likes to argue, born on the 17th._ "

"D'Artagnan!" There's a faint cry of his name and D'Artagnan looks up from where he's staring at the floor… exciting.

"Aramis!" He screams back. Forget the bomb behind him is about to go off. 

"D'Artagnan!" That cry is a lot happier and footsteps echo heavily outside. The door handle is rattled before the metal is rammed into and collapses. Porthos grins.

"Don't smile. I'm going to die." D'Artagnan scolds him and Aramis gapes.

"Yes. You are." He shoves past Porthos and shoots at the locks holding D'Artagnan down. "Come on." 

"We can't leave the bombs." Athos says slightly more calmly although his heart his hammering. He's never seen that many powerful bombs in one place but they must be connected. 

"Are you joking?" Aramis' eyebrows shoot up as Athos kneels down and wrenches the timer off the bomb plate to reveal lots of coloured wires. Athos shoots him a look. "Alright, apparently not." 

"30 seconds." Porthos chips way too happily, folding his arms and watching as Athos pulls out various wires in a specific order.

"So, watching Aramis showering?" D'Artagnan stands beside him.

"I do not want to die thinking about Aramis showering, gentlemen." Athos frowns as the timer reaches 00:00:20. "No offence." He adds and Aramis shrugs.

"None taken. Say, why don't you two go do something useful?" He says and Porthos tilts his head.

"Like?"

"I don't know, maybe finding Vadim!" Aramis yelps and D'Artagnan and Porthos nod before dashing away. 

The timer still reads 00:00:20.

"So, you like Porthos then?" Athos turns on him the second they're gone and Aramis sighs, falling back against the disarmed bombs as casually as if they were cushions.

"I didn't say that." He protest but Athos is already on his feet and pulling Aramis with him.

"Didn't have to. Your face is an open book, written in a foreign language-"

"Spanish." 

"-but an open book none the less."

"Right."

"Plus I saw you staring lovingly into his eyes while we were watching Brokeback Mountain last week." Athos grins before striding out.

"What? No! That's not- Athos!"

\--------------------------------------------

Vadim is easy to catch. He's out under the bridge and D'Artagnan gives him fair warning before making him a dead man.   
Louis King and wife Anne don't even drop by for tea to reward them.

Porthos makes dinner instead and they play Mario Kart. Porthos wins then Aramis makes pudding. They then all fall asleep on the sofa together watching Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix.

It's almost like D'Artagnan didn't die.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I regret nothing with this chapter. My shameless Porthos/Aramis shipping will be my downfall. I have their first kiss mapped out in my mind already. Hopefully, I shall start Chapter 3 soon. I hope you enjoyed!


	3. Chapter Three: Commodities

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Based on 'Commodites', while escorting Bonnaire to see Louis King Porthos is shot by men in a black van. Unable to go to a hospital, Athos suggests a place but he doesn't really want to be there.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer;  
> I do not own any rights to any of the characters (except Allyson cause she's my OC), songs, song artists, films or the general plot line. :)
> 
> I would apologise for the very 'hetero' ending but I'm too in love with the Portamis ship to bother.

"I got the number plate. Bloody lunatics." Aramis sighs as the black van skids away, the doors slamming shut and smoke pouring out the exhaust. "Look. I'll have to replace the bloody windscreen." He gestures to the three bullet holes in the glass and the shards all around the car's inside. 

"I swear sometimes you only care about that car." Athos runs a hand through his hair like he's apathetic to the situation they're in but his shoulders are tense and he jumps at the smallest sounds. 

"It _is_ rather a nice car." Emile Bonnaire drawls, crawling out from underneath the wheels where he'd been cowering. He's the reason they've been shot at; him and whatever is in his satchel and they have to escort him to Louis King. Treville did not mention the angry groups of people trying to kill Bonnaire before they left to meet him at port.

"Get up here." D'Artagnan grabs Bonnaire and pulls him up to his feet. "We got shot at because of you so stop being such a coward." 

"Gentlemen, it's hardly my fault people don't understand me." Bonnaire smiles, extending his arms like he expects _them_ to understand. All he gets as an answer is a rather long string of Spanish curses from Aramis. "Uncalled for." Bonnaire frowns but Aramis has already run forward.

Porthos staggers into his arms and his knees buckle under him. "'Mis, I think I've been shot." He murmurs, his breath coming irregularly and short.

"Hey, it's alright. I've got you." Aramis holds his friend up, an arm around his waist and Porthos' around his shoulders. "I've got you." 

"Is it bad?" Athos asks, eyes darting around like he's looking out for a surprise attack. 

"Is it bad?" Aramis nearly drops Porthos in surprise. He helps Porthos to the front of the car and sits him down on the bonnet where there's no glass. "Look at his face and tell me you seriously needed to ask that." Aramis adds when he's close enough to Athos to whisper. He grabs a cloth from the glove compartment and starts clearing the glass out his front seats. "We need to get him to hospital." 

"Bonnaire." Athos reminds him. "We can't take him anywhere he may be recognised."

Aramis swears. "Alright, I'll operate on him. Now." He puts the cloth away and rummages for his med-kit.

"Not now, Aramis. You can't in the open. Not here." Athos lays a hand on his arm gently which Aramis shoves back before pinning the older man against the car. 

"If I don't operate soon, he'll die." He hisses. "Do you not care about Porthos?" 

There question seems to hang in the air and D'Artagnan doesn't think he's ever seen Aramis looking so angry yet upset at the same time. 

Very slowly, Athos pushes Aramis' hands off him and stands up properly. "I know somewhere. It's not heated but it's sheltered at least." 

Aramis nods, stepping back. Instantly his eyes have switched to an apology for his friend who just smiles slightly in acceptance.

"I take it he does care then." Porthos splutters when Aramis returns to his side, trying to make a joke to relieve the tension. 

"Of course I do." Athos appears at his other side and lays a hand on his uninjured shoulder. "You're my brother."

"You don't look very similar." Bonnaire comments and D'Artagnan kicks him in the shins. 

\-----------------------------------------------

"Shhh. You're gonna be fine." Aramis soothes, holding Porthos' hand and stroking it with his thumb as Athos drives. 

Bonnaire is now in the front, wearing a hat to disguise himself, while Aramis and D'Artagnan sit with Porthos in the back. D'Artagnan is torn between helping Aramis or just staying out of it as he probably has no idea what to do. 

"You're a bloody crap liar." Porthos replies and Aramis chuckles. He presses their foreheads together, whispering something so quietly that only Porthos can hear.

"You know, one might easily mistake friendship for something else among those two." Bonnaire comments lazily and Athos takes his eyes off the road to glare temporarily. 

"Alright." Athos stops the car after about five more minutes and turns off the engine, ceasing both the rumble of power and the music playing. 

Slowly, D'Artagnan and Aramis help Porthos out the car, carrying most of the man's weight as Bonnaire trails behind, his satchel clutched close. 

"What is this place?" D'Artagnan asks Athos as they pass him. It's not just a mansion but a large mansion. However, windows are boarded and graffiti litters the outer brickwork; most of the inside is dusty too and covered in sheets. 

Athos directs them to what appears to be the main room and a very luxurious looking couch- which is just as dusty- where they sit Porthos down. 

"I could do with a place like this." Bonnaire wolf whistles, trailing his fingers round the dado rail and shoving more dust into the air. 

D'Artagnan opens a window and sets the wooden board covering it on the outside spiralling down to the grass below. "You never answered my question." He says, sitting down on the window ledge which is around waist height. "How do you know this house exists?" 

There's a small silence where all gazes turn to Athos. Aramis ceases lighting a fire, Porthos looks over his shoulder despite the pain and Bonnaire crosses his arms.

"I own it." Athos says finally before stalking out the room through a different door, opening it like he wants to make an entrance, or in this case an exit. 

"That was dramatic." Bonnaire frowns, picking up one of the gold candle sticks and inspecting it. Aramis rolls his eyes.

\-----------------------------------------------

"I'm squeamish. I'd rather not be part of-" Bonnaire tries, and fails, to make his way out the room but D'Artagnan blocks his way and shakes his head. 

"Fine needlework, Aramis does. Should have been a seamstress." Porthos laughs, the sound compressed because a; he's in pain and b; he's lying face down on the table. Sunlight pours in through the window and turns the room a soft golden colour. 

Aramis smirks. "You flatter me. However, there really is no need for you to injure yourself just for the sake of my practice." 

Porthos snorts and Athos rolls his eyes, moving away from the wall to stand on Porthos' other side. Aramis nods a little. 

"Porthos." Athos says calmly and Porthos turns to look at him before Athos punches him, rendering him unconscious. Dust flies up at the action and Athos shakes his stinging knuckles a little. Bonnaire looks positively terrified. 

"You're brutes!" He exclaims and Aramis laughs.

"It's the best way with Porthos." Athos shrugs before exiting the room. 

"We learnt from experience." Aramis agrees, pointing to the faint trace of a scar on his forehead. That had been a fun exercise although not the first of scars he bore above his eyes. 

\------------------------------------------------

"Portraits. I haven't seen a house with portraits in years." D'Artagnan says, creeping up on Athos and causing him to jump. 

"Good for you." Comes the rather emotionless reply. 

"How rich were you? Are you? Sorry." D'Artagnan corrects himself then apologises, blushing like a school boy. In a way, he almost is because he's still a lot younger than the others.

"We had servants." Athos says like that explains everything, his tone suggesting he didn't like people waiting on him.

"That's you obviously but who's this?" D'Artagnan steps forward to point to the portrait beside Athos'. 

"My brother, Thomas." 

There's silence. D'Artagnan knows instantly that Thomas is no longer around from the way Athos can't meet his eyes.

"I'm sorry." He says, laying a hand on Athos' shoulder but Athos shrugs him off. 

"We leave as soon as we can." He commands before stalking out.

D'Artagnan looks from Thomas' portrait to Athos' and sighs. Discovering what's wrong with his friend is going to be a long process.

\---------------------------------------------

There's loud cries from outside about ten pm and a window shatters. Aramis jerks awake, sitting up and nearly falling off the sofa where he's laying with Porthos. Carefully, he uncurls and untangles himself from the embrace and gets up to look out the window. 

_Teenagers_ , he thinks first before noticing now much older they are, _vandals then._

Grabbing his jacket and gun, he makes his way through the cold house in the darkness, down the spiral staircase and waits for them to open the door. When they do, they look very surprised to see someone. 

"Good evening." He says calmly and the group of five boys and a girl stare at him. "May I ask what you're doing?" 

It's the girl who speaks. "Leaving." She smiles, blonde hair tumbling round her shoulders as she bows, shoving the others back. "Sorry."

"Can I get your names please before you go?" Aramis asks and the smile slips.

"You're police, aren't you?" She frowns then notices the jacket properly. "No! You're a musketeer." She adds the word "shit" quietly. 

"Indeed I am, ma'am. My name is Aramis." If he had a hat, this would be the point he doffs it. The girl repeats "shit" louder. She looks behind her to turn for her friend's support but they're edging away and, upon the indignant shout she gives, they run.

"I never liked them anyway." She says although it's more of a question. "Look, I'm really sorry. This house has been abandoned for five years; we meant no harm. I was dared." 

"Who threw the stone?" Aramis has opened his mouth but it isn't his voice. Athos is walking down the stairs, his footsteps soft. The girl's jaw drops and her eyes widen. 

"Not me, I swear." She says once she seems to regain whatever she momentarily lost. Even in the darkness, Aramis is pretty sure she's blushing. 

"What's your name, miss?" Athos sighs, running a hand through his hair.

"Allyson." She says quickly, looking at her feet. 

"Alright, Allyson. If you could kindly leave and not come back to try and ruin my house. Much obliged." Athos replies before turning and going back upstairs. The girl- Allyson- seems rather frozen. She blinks slowly, her eyes following Athos until he disappears. 

"Damn," she says to no one in particular, "he's gorgeous." Then she sees Aramis, squeaks and dashes out, running as fast as she can. 

Aramis laughs, moving off the stairs to close the door. He goes back upstairs, lies down beside Porthos and allows himself to fall back asleep.

\-------------------------------------------------

Athos is drunk.

In fact, he's more than that. He's probably drunker than when he was drunk last week combined with- 

"Ah fuck." He drops the bottle and watches as it smashes over the floor tiles. Glass skids everywhere and the wine stains like blood in his blurred vision. Athos just laughs.

"You win, Milday." He laughs, spinning round with his arms out. "You never liked my drinking anyway. You had awful taste in wine." Athos stumbles, grabbing at the table to prevent himself falling as he staggers out the room. He collapses onto his old bed and stares at the emptiness beside him. 

He's never felt so cold. 

\--------------------------------------------

Aramis is up first and instantly he doesn't want to be because, well, he's comfortable. Even so, he gets up and gets changed, unable to shower because Athos hasn't payed his water bills, before searching for the man in question. 

"Oi, sleepyhead." Aramis shakes him then remembers that never works. He goes down to the kitchen and finds some bottled water- one which isn't growing mould- and brings it back before tipping it over Athos.

"Ididn'tkillher." Athos sits bolt upright, the worlds tumbling out his mouth in surprise. He blinks, runs a hand through his sopping hair and sighs. "Aspirin?" He asks meekly and Aramis provides. He's always prepared.

"Porthos should be fit to move by tomorrow. I don't want him doing much today until I'm sure he's not going to dislocate something." Aramis explains and Athos groans, swallowing the tablets dry. 

"Another day in this abysmal dump. There isn't even phone signal to text someone." 

"Who would you text?" Aramis laughs, knowing full well his contacts are limited. 

"Constance maybe. Treville might be nice to chat too." Athos says sarcastically. "I was making a point." 

"Is it really that bad?" Aramis sits down on the edge of the bed, avoiding the bits that are damp with water.

"Yes." Athos confirms before getting up, putting distance between them. "Go back to Porthos. Someone keep an eye on Bonnaire."

Aramis frowns but does as he's told. Experience has taught him to let Athos explain in his own time.

\----------------------------------------------

"Did someone punch me?" Porthos asks, groaning as his shoulder aches and, now, so does his jaw.

"Why on Earth would you think that?" D'Artagnan replies from where he's curled up in an armchair like a cat. He unrolls and stands up, barefoot and shirtless. 

"Because I'm not stupid." Porthos returns, leaning back against the sofa and closing his eyes. "Contrary to popular belief." 

"No one thinks that." D'Artagnan protests but Porthos has turned his head to glare at Bonnaire. "Ah."

"Gentlemen, I am in no way doubting your friend's intelligence. He is, for a coloured man, very smart." Bonnaire drawls and Porthos nearly gets up to hit him. D'Artagnan rests a hand on his good shoulder to stop him.

"Ignore him. He's a racist asshole." He murmurs before moving away to grab his clothes. 

The faint rumble of an engine draws their attention and D'Artagnan peers out the window before racing downstairs, grabbing Aramis on the way down.

Bonnaire's wife on a motorbike, is driving towards them, clutching her chest. D'Artagnan raises his gun as she approaches. 

"Please. I've been injured." She begs, stopping the bike. D'Artagnan looks at Aramis who shrugs. "Men in a black van." She continues and D'Artagnan lowers his weapon. 

He walks forward to help her but she pulls a gun on him.

"Oh, my darling!" Bonnaire beams. "You've come for me. How lovely." He shoves through them all and onto the bike behind her. They speed away and Aramis fires at the back wheel. 

"Bugger. We can't take the car that way." There's two loud bangs and then hissing. Aramis swears as one of the tires deflates and the engine of his car starts smoking. Bonnaire's wife has shot his car. "That's my fucking car!" He yells.

"Hey!" Athos shouts to grab their attention and shoots the lock on the garage. He pulls up the corrugated door and D'Artagnan and Aramis follow him. Inside is a large collection of vehicles: two broken cars, six bicycles and three motorbikes. Aramis' jaw drops because he's never quite seen so many stylish machines in one garage. 

"Quit gawking. Let's go." Athos climbs on and reeves the engine. 

"I suppose you think you're just going to leave me." Porthos appears in the doorway, silhouetted against the sun light. 

"You're not fit enough. Stay here." Athos tells him before driving off, D'Artagnan close beside him.

"I'll just watch a film or something while you're gone then." Porthos folds his arms and Aramis sighs, stopping beside him to put a hand on his shoulder.

"We'll be back as soon as possible." He promises before following the others.  
Porthos sighs and leans against the wall, his fingers tracing the graffiti. He hates being left behind.

Meanwhile, Bonnaire's wife is driving rather like a manic down small tracks. It's amazing that no one has been thrown off down a ditch. 

The familiar whizzing of bullets and Bonnaire's cry alerts them to the men on the other bank, shooting at them from behind their black van. Three men are on the path ahead and Bonnaire's wife slides off the bike and hits the ground. 

"So much for love." D'Artagnan sighs as Bonnaire speeds down the bank in a get away attempt. "I'll go after him." 

He doesn't get a reply as Aramis and Athos are too busy shooting the men in black shooting at them. The van on the other side of the bank roars into life and drives away, leaving the three men on the path as sacrifices. Two turn tail and flee as soon as one is struck down, gasping and clutching his chest. 

Aramis leaps from his bike and runs over, kneeling down. The man is speaking almost indecipherable Spanish but it's nothing useful from what Aramis picks out. The man heaves a final breath before collapsing against the dirt. 

"Anything?" Athos asks from where he's lifting Bonnaire's wife onto his bike to take her back. It won't be the first time someone was buried near his house. 

"His name was Gabriel. Nothing more important than that." Aramis stands up, dusting the dirt off his knees. "We can't leave him here either, can we?" 

"No. You can take him." Athos smiles slightly at Aramis' expression.

"Great." Aramis says sarcastically. "Thanks, Athos."

\---------------------------------------------

"You." Porthos growls, his tone so low it sends shivers down Aramis' spine. Bonnaire squeaks a little and steps back as Porthos advances towards him like a bear. "Of all the slimy things I took you for, this is far worse." 

D'Artagnan and Athos step forward when they notice the clenched fists, knowing Porthos is about to punch Bonnaire across the channel to England... only metaphorically hopefully. 

"Porthos. Calm." Aramis raises his hands, trying to draw his friend's attention away from Bonnaire and whatever he's done. 

"Don't tell me to be calm, Aramis. Not when he's filth. He's a liar!" Porthos lunges and it takes all of both Athos' and D'Artagnan's strength to hold him back. "A filthy fucking liar." 

Bonnaire's wide eyes travel from Porthos to his open satchel and papers across the floor. His face drops like he suddenly understands the rage. Aramis crosses the room to reach them. 

"He's not making money from workers, oh no. Bonnaire's gains come from slaves." Porthos struggles and his voice breaks over the last few words. "Illegally purchased and illegally used man labour." 

Aramis freezes and D'Artagnan loses his grip allowing Porthos to shove through him and Athos to Bonnaire. The single punch Porthos manages to land before being caught again sends Bonnaire backwards against the wall. There's no denying that Porthos is by far the strongest. 

"Porthos." Aramis says quietly, papers in hand. "Look." He extends his arm and drops the papers into the fire. 

"That's not enough. He has a laptop and backups and a whole system of people in it with him." Porthos roars and the loud tear of stitching is audible to everyone.

"Fuck, there goes my needlework." Aramis sighs, leaping over the sofa and help the others hold Porthos back. "Porthos, listen. We're taking him to King. We can tell Treville about this man's actions and ensure his business is shut down."

"Slavery, Aramis. Didn't you study it at school? The horrors people faced daily and the ships they would be taken across on. I can't imagine _he_ would treat them much better." Porthos spits and Aramis rests his hands on Porthos' shoulders. Athos and D'Artagnan slowly let go, taking careful steps back.

"People are not commodities in the twenty first century. Everyone is born free and no one has the right to take that away except the actions of themselves." Aramis says and Porthos visibly relaxes. 

"I suppose you're gonna wanna stitch me back up again." He sighs and Aramis smiles.

"Only if you want me to. I shouldn't need to if you don't die in the next hour." 

"Comforting." Porthos laughs. He and Bonnaire are kept in separate rooms until they leave. 

\---------------------------------------------

"Look at my baby." Aramis croons sadly, stroking the bonnet of his car. "Look what Bonnaire's bloody wife did to my girl."

"Aramis, no offence but it's a car." D'Artagnan puts a hand on Aramis' shoulder then hastily backs away after the look he gets. He and Porthos exchange head shakes and smiles.

"We'll get someone to bring it back to the garrison for you to mend when we've delivered our cargo." Porthos says it lightly but the way he says 'cargo' is full of distaste for the man this refers to. 

"You four go. I'd like to stay a while, if that's alright." Athos requests quietly and Aramis nods. 

"We'll leave you a bike; Porthos and I can share." 

D'Artagnan coughs the words "Brokeback Mountain" but no one comments on it. Athos would normally smile at that type of thing because it's normally him who makes them. D'Artagnan frowns. Something is wrong and he doesn't feel comfortable leaving Athos alone but he supposes he has no choice.

"If you take too long, we'll come back for you and the car." Porthos grins, getting onto the bike and making it clear he will be the one driving. Aramis seems to have absolutely no problem in getting on behind and wrapping his arms round Porthos' waist.

D'Artagnan glances at Athos again, something nagging at him in the back of his mind. He follows the others anyway.

\--------------------------------------------

Forget earlier when he was the drunkest, Athos is so far from sober now that he doesn't even notice anyone entering. 

It's late. Very late. Three hours later than when the others left so they must be near Paris now. It's also dark outside. Which is how he notices the light in his room.

Staggering into the bedroom, he's surprised- but not concerned- to find his curtains on fire. Then he's surprised- _and_ concerned- to find Milday De Winter standing in the doorway. 

"No." Athos says, his voice raw and broken. "You're dead." She's dead. He had her arrested and she died in jail of some disease she caught there. 

"You can wish." Milday snorts, stalking towards him with the same terrifying grace Athos remembers she had even before he knew what she was.

"I'll wish until the day I die." He spits and she laughs. The same chill Athos had from sleeping alone returns to him and she grabs him by the collar. 

"You can stop wishing now then." Milday smiles, pressing a dagger to his neck. 

"Do it." He eggs her on but she stops, dropping him down on the floor. 

"Athos! Athos!" 

"D'Artagnan." Athos and Milday say at the same time before she vanishes among the smoke. Athos rolls over so he's face down on the floor, coughing. 

D'Artagnan shoves his way through the burning building, calling out for Athos. Once he finds him, getting out proves harder. The pair narrowly escape the stairs collapsing and make it outside, Athos dropping onto the grass and D'Artagnan close beside him.

"What happened? Who was that woman? Athos?" D'Artagnan grabs him by the shoulder to hold him up. "Please tell me." 

"My wife. She's dead but she's not dead." Athos cries and D'Artagnan is a little scared. He's never seen Athos so emotionally unstable ever. 

"What?"

"She killed my brother so I had her arrested and they told me she died but she didn't die. She tried to kill me." 

D'Artagnan has no answer for that so he just holds onto Athos as the house burns. 

\----------------------------------------------

It's the police who return Aramis' car two days later. After Bonnaire's arrest, payments for the men in the black van who wanted the pay Bonnaire owed and insurance claims for Athos' house which burnt down after he was gone, Aramis is reunited with his car. 

The police first try accusing him of burning down Athos' house which is quickly dismissed when Athos lands Allyson in the blame. D'Artagnan makes a note to send her some money for the fine she'll have to pay. 

Then the police try to claim Aramis' car should be sold for scrap. Porthos has to hold Aramis back while they get back in the van and drive away. 

Porthos takes the duty of bring Aramis back in on himself when Athos goes to bed early and D'Artagnan heads for a shower. 

"Mis?" Porthos calls, heading down the stairs that lead to the underground storage. The rhythmical pounding of metal echoes through the cold air mingled with Aramis' humming and his stereo blaring Avril Lavigne.

"Aramis." Porthos tries again in a slightly singsong way. "Aramis."

Aramis' head shoots up like a meerkat and he stops fixing his car to stare at Porthos. There's dirt and oil smudged all across his face and Porthos smiles.

"Bed time, I think." He says and Aramis frowns, setting his tools down. 

"What time is it?" He leans through the broken window to turn down the stereo. 

"Half eleven. Athos went to bed three hours ago and D'Artagnan has probably collapsed in the shower." Porthos explains and Aramis frowns although his eyes are smiling.

"What a terrible addition to our water bill." He jokes and Porthos grins, wandering round to Aramis' side, stepping over wires and frames and glass on the floor. 

Aramis wipes his hand on his forehead leaving a massive streak of oil behind. Porthos reaches up to remove the worst, his thumb brushing Aramis' skin gently. 

"I never said thank you." Porthos says softly, so quiet that Aramis would be able to miss it if he was a little further away.

"You don't have to thank me. It was a pleasure to save your sorry ass." Aramis smirks and Porthos shakes his head a little.

"Seriously, 'Mis, I mean it. Thank you." Porthos wonders if Aramis would taste like oil if he were to kiss him now. It certainly wouldn't be a completely unexpected kiss; after all, they've cuddled, held hands, done whatever that bike ride was… Porthos clears his head and steps back. Aramis looks rather wide eyed but it never crosses his mind that maybe Aramis could be thinking the same thing.

"Shower after D'Artagnan or you can wash your sheets. I did them before we left and I refuse to do them again." Porthos calls as he walks out, boots clicking on the concrete and figure disappearing among the shadows. 

Aramis leans back against his work bench and sighs.

/ _And that's why I smile, it's been a while, since every day and everything has, felt this right, and now you turn it all around, and suddenly you're all I need, the reason why I-I-I smile._ /

Aramis' thoughts drift back to the expression in Porthos' eyes until he finally falls asleep at 00:03.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I told you it would be very straight. 
> 
> Thanks for reading! I hope you're enjoying these because, although fun and rewarding, sometimes the writing just doesn't go fast enough!


	4. Chapter Four: The Good Soldier

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Chapter four is episode four modernised. Marsac's back, Aramis does an awful lot more crying that the show and Athos is still done with everyone's shit.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There was quite a bit of pressure on me over this chapter because this is one of the best episodes and everyone is looking forward to this chapter so I am sorry it's probably not as good!!! Eek. Enjoy anyway though.

D'Artagnan wanders into the kitchen after showering. He's only in jeans, walking barefoot across the apartment with a towel in hand, rubbing at his hair. The faint pling of some game grows louder and it doesn't take long to find the culprit.

Porthos is already dressed and ready. He's made pancakes which are sitting on the side under tin foil to keep them warm and he is very bored.

"Dear god. Please turn the sound off at the very least." D'Artagnan groans, walking past. Porthos just laughs and turns the sound up. "Porthos. Please." 

Moving off the sofa, Porthos grabs one of the cables for the speakers and plugs his phone in. The noise is now even louder and D'Artagnan hits his head on the breakfast bar.

"High score 178." Porthos announces and D'Artagnan looks mildly impressed as well as annoyed.

"Turn the fucking 'Flappy Bird' game off!" Athos yells from his room where D'Artagnan suspects he's still in bed. Porthos does as he's asked this time, chuckling because he thinks it's funny to irritate Athos… because it is. He replaces the game sounds with decent music- none of Aramis' girl stuff- before joining D'Artagnan.

"Parade today." He says cheerfully and D'Artagnan nods, mouth full of pancake. He swallows before answering.

"Who for?" 

"Head of some department down in Savoy. Here to renew some treaty so his money and power don't go joining other businesses. His visit is a momentous occasion; don't drink anything that looks slightly blue." Porthos explains. "I have experience." He adds before D'Artagnan can ask why.

"So do I! I was seeing purple zebras everywhere for three days." Aramis chips in despite having missed the first part of Porthos' sentence, appearing beside them and nicking one of D'Artagnan's pancakes because they're closer than his own.

"Liar." Porthos jabs Aramis' chest. "You told me it was lions." 

"African animals all look the same to me." Aramis shrugs and Porthos frowns.

"So I look the same too? You're always the one saying that we are all animals." 

Aramis looks slightly startled by this accusation and his cheeks go pink. "What? No! That's not what I meant." Then he frowns when Porthos laughs and D'Artagnan is grinning. "Don't do that to me. I thought I'd genuinely hurt you." Aramis punches Porthos' shoulder as he passes to make some coffee.

"How dare the scoundrel accuse me of such a monstrosity! Oh if only mother could hear of this outrage. My friends are traitors to my noble wisdom and outstandingly devilish looks." Porthos mocks, leaning back, one hand on his forehead like he's trying to be a maiden in a Shakespeare play.

The words "fuck off, you bastard," are just about audible which sends Porthos- and D'Artagnan- into hysterics. 

Athos appears in the corridor doorframe and he stares blankly at them before rolling his eyes and turning away. 

\-----------------------------------------------

"If I faint, would someone catch me?" Porthos mumbles, his lips barely moving and Athos snorts. 

"No. You'd just fall flat on your-" Athos starts answering but is cut off with a glare from Treville. The Captain shakes his head before returning his attention back to Louis King who's waffling on about how traffic is dreadful these days. 

"It's so fucking hot." D'Artagnan groans as yet another fly buzzes round his head. "I'm sweating like a pig."

"Don't half look like one either." Porthos adds and, had they not been ordered to keep a straight line because they are 'representing the musketeers', D'Artagnan would have kicked him. 

Aramis says nothing throughout this entire conversation which is rather disconcerting.

"What's up with him?" Athos asks and their eyes go to Aramis. Porthos can feel his heart aching at the expression on his friend's face. 

"Do you remember Savoy, five years ago?" He asks softly, trying not to let Aramis hear. 

"Savoy?" D'Artagnan questions. "What happened in Savoy? Isn't that where this guy's office is based?"

He doesn't get an answer because a very fancy black car rolls up and out step the Head of the Savoy department- who's name is Victor Duke which makes Porthos giggle as the man looks to fierce for his name- and his wife who is called Christine Marie. Gontard, their secretary and probably some form of conspirator against the DST, follows them out too. 

"Christine." Louis gets up to greet his sister with a hug which she returns. Victor doesn't even grace him with a smile.

"The traffic here is appalling and the roads as so horrendously bumpy that I'll be bruised for weeks." He frowns, eyes narrowed.

A shot rings out like a bell, narrowly missing Mr Duke and hitting one of the guards. Porthos is the first to react, probably because he's so bored, followed by the others. They race after the sound, guns out and eyes wide open. Everyone else is ushered away to safety.

Athos signals for them to split up to try and cover all the garden because there's no way to cover the vast land area in one group.   
Aramis spots the shooter first and his blood runs cold. _No, it can't be._ He ducks round the pillar and comes face to face with the man. 

"Aramis, please. I can explain." 

Marsac. 

Aramis is at a loss for words. His heart is racing and mind whirring but nothing is working. Until the memories catches up with him. He shoves Marsac back against the pillar, hand around his neck to hold him.   
"What," he spits, "do you think you're doing?"

"I know who killed them. I know." Marsac chokes and Aramis' grip releases sending Marsac to the ground.

"You left me. Alone. With twenty dead men." Aramis hisses, dangerously close to crying.

"Aramis please." Marsac begs. Aramis' head turns sharply at the footfalls of his searching friends and he yanks Marsac up, hiding him behind the pillar. 

"You better have one hell of a good reason. First a deserter then an assassin. Marsac." The way Aramis says his name is almost like a plea but for what? 

"I promise I can explain. Hear me out, Mis."   
Mis. That's what Porthos calls him and it's hard to believe that Marsac called him that first. Marsac always called him that. 

\--------------------------------------------

"Terrorists?" Victor scoffs. "Unlikely. I come to make a deal and you try to kill me. Oh no, I would go to S.P.A.I.N before the DST. I want this 'terrorist' found!" He bellows and the Cardinal takes a step forward, his voice as calm as normal.

"I can assure you, we have no part in-"

"No part! I have not forgotten. Five years and a man does not forget attempts to destroy his claim to business and his life." 

"We assure you that that group of self claimed Musketeers were no part of the DST and our services are searching for the assassin as we speak." Treville steps in and Mr Duke goes to say something else before thinking otherwise. 

"We are here to be united. Not shout." Anne points out politely, taking Louis' hand. "We are, after all, family." 

"And for that reason I shall stay." Victor turns on his heel and stalks up the stairs to his quarters. 

"What an unpleasant fellow." Louis sighs as he disappears. "I do not envy my sister one bit."

\----------------------------------------------

"How do you know all this?" Aramis demands, raking a hand through his hair. He doesn't know what to make of Marsac's claims.

"5 years gives a guy time to go digging." Marsac points out the freezes as the faint click of a gun draws his attention.

"What," D'Artagnan asks calmly, "is going on?"

"D'Artagnan, put the gun down, I beg you." Aramis reaches out and D'Artagnan frowns, stepping back.

"Aramis, what is going on?" He repeats his question but he lowers the gun very slowly as Aramis talks.

"You have to trust me with this. Please. Marsac was a musketeer once." 

"That gives me no reason to trust him." D'Artagnan points out but gives in. "If this gets me arrested, I shall take it very personally." He threatens and Aramis claps his shoulder, the gratitude shown in his eyes.

"Note taken." 

Before they leave, Marsac replaces the CCTV camera footage with one he made earlier of the empty yard.

\----------------------------------------------

"If this is you meddling in affairs again, I would like to know." Treville demands, stalking into the Cardinal's office and shoving the doors open so hard they hit the brickwork and make a loud bang.

"I can assure you-" The Cardinal starts, eyes on his laptop, not even remotely bothered by Treville's presence.

"You do an awful lot of assuring, Richelieu. I want you to promise this isn't one of your games." Treville demands, slamming his hands down on the desk and causing a few items to jump. 

"Why," the Cardinal gets to his feet, "would I put this agreement at risk? This will benefit the DST greatly and I do not desire to see a valuable resource go to the S.P.A.I.N." 

Treville considers this for a moment, their gazes stern. "Cluzet." He says finally. "What if he discovers Cluzet?" 

"He won't. No one knows about Cluzet. If it troubles you then we could have him moved out of Paris?" Richelieu suggests but Treville waves the idea away. 

"It would attract attention." He says and the Cardinal nods.

"From this moment, I want your musketeers watching him." 

"Do you think he will allow it?" Treville is already half way to the door and the Cardinal laughs.

"There's just been an attempt on his life; he doesn't have a choice."

\-----------------------------------------------

"Why are you tied together?" Constance asks when she opens the door. Aramis and Marsac exchange looks and D'Artagnan rolls his eyes.

"Long story. We need somewhere to keep him where no one will suspect he is." D'Artagnan explains and Constance pulls her gun from her belt.

"So he's a criminal?" Her eyes widen and D'Artagnan reaches out to lower her gun, taking it off her before handing it back.

"Please." Aramis says and Constance stares at him, concerned. She gives in finally.

"Use Flea's room; she's undercover for at least another month so won't be back." She points up the stairs and Aramis nods gratefully. Marsac winks at her and D'Artagnan glares back at him as if he can ward him off.

"This better be for a damn good reason." Constance shakes her head and disappears back into the kitchen. D'Artagnan goes back outside to wait in the car as Aramis unties Marsac.

"Did you not trust me, Mis?" Marsac laughs, a sound almost like scraping glass down brickwork. Aramis shudders.

"I did once." He says solemnly. "I don't know anymore." His hand drifts to Marsac' shoulder of it's own accord but he can't bring himself to let go. He never wanted to let Marsac go. 

"Then let me prove it to you, Mis. I can show you what I found." Marsac smiles, his entire face lighting up like it always did when he was excited or proud.

"Stop calling me Mis." Aramis says, his words split apart almost like they aren't the same sentence.

"Why? I've always called you Mis." Marsac frowns a little then a reason seems to dawn on him. "There's someone else, isn't there? You've moved on from me."

Aramis gets up, nearly on the verge of tears again. "I could never forget you. You know that." He says and closes the door, leaning back against it and wiping his tears away.

Five years ago and Marsac was all he had left. Five years ago and Marsac left him. Five years ago he was the only survivor. He covers his ears with his hands, the silence too cold and empty like their camp had been after the attack. Silence. 

"What happened in Savoy?" D'Artagnan asks once Aramis slides into the driver seat. He rests his hands on the wheel and slumps back, eyes closed.

"We were on a training exercise. No reason to be on guard then, in the middle of the night, we were attacked. Slaughtered. Marsac and I fought side by side… like soldiers." Aramis sighs and D'Artagnan nods.

"I remember seeing that on the news. Apparently it was an assassination attempt on Victor Duke to put his son in charge of his company." 

"But it wasn't." Aramis yells suddenly and D'Artagnan shifts back. 

"I know. I know. Sorry. Continue? How did you survive?" He asks softly and Aramis nods.

"I was injured. Marsac carried me to safety. He- he didn't go back and fight. I woke up in the morning and found him among the bodies of our friends, I- I had to watch him walk away. He-" Aramis stops to swallow and blink back tears, "-he removed his uniform and I let him. He saved my life and I let him ruin his own. Everyone else sees him as a deserter and a coward, wants him arrested or dead; I don't see him like that."

Tears run down Aramis' cheeks and D'Artagnan reaches across to lay a hand on Aramis' shoulder. "When I saw the story on the news- when I saw only two survived- I remember seeing your name and thinking 'he must be the bravest man alive.' Not just because of the fighting but because of what you went through and now, now I can say it to you, I swear I'm here for you. You want to talk or just sit in silence, fine. You **are** one of the bravest men alive and it's a privilege to have you as a friend… as a brother." 

Aramis makes a noise that sounds like a mix between a sob and a laugh before he pulls D'Artagnan across the gap and hugs him so tightly that D'Artagnan finds breathing slightly harder.

"The privilege is all mine, D'Artagnan." He says finally, letting go. "Most definitely mine."

\---------------------------------------------

"He just- got away." Aramis mentally curses himself for being the worst liar but he often gets away with it because his attitude is like the way he lies.

"Got away? Got away! No CCTV and no sightings!" Treville yells as they form their line in front of his desk. "What about you, D'Artagnan?"

"No. I didn't see him. I slipped." Aramis rethinks: maybe D'Artagnan is a worse liar than him. He almost finds the ability to consider laughing.

"Slipped?"

"Mm. Wet grass." D'Artagnan nods and Aramis doesn't miss the look Athos shoots Porthos across him. Even if Treville doesn't notice, the others have. 

"Well thank goodness it wasn't a banana peel or we all would have looked stupid. **You let an assassin escape!** This agreement is vitally important to the DST but thank fucking god D'Artagnan isn't going to get a bruise on his dainty arse." Treville is not in a good mood and D'Artagnan has to take a step back, lowering his head. Porthos laughs and then hastily shuts his mouth when Treville's attention turns to him. 

"Athos, you and Porthos are going to accompany Mr Duke as his security guard starting after tea." The anger fades from Treville's words and he simply waves them away, unable to say anything more.

Aramis walks extra fast away from Treville's office but Porthos catches his arm.

"What's going on, Mis? What are you hiding?"

_There's someone else, isn't there?_ Marsac's words come back to Aramis but he shakes his head to clear them.

"Nothing. I don't know what you're talking about." He lies and Porthos raises his eyebrows. He knows Aramis too well to believe any lie he tells.

"You too." Athos grabs D'Artagnan's arm before he can escape but he's not going to.

"If you don't tell them, I will." He says and Aramis drops his head. 

"Come on then. Let's hope Constance has the kettle boiled."

They walk across the garrison and Aramis feel like he's being walked to the gallows. D'Artagnan opens the door with the key Constance lent him and they file into the kitchen. 

Constance has Marsac at the table, legs tied to the chair he's on with a plate of cookies in front of him. 

"Marsac. You could have told me this was Marsac." Constance yelps when she sees them, her gaze directed at D'Artagnan.

"I'm sorry." He apologises and she snorts.

"Marsac?" Porthos growls. He remembers Marsac oh too well for his own liking. He never spoke to him much but he knows a lot from what Aramis recounted. He also knows that Marsac left Aramis alone among dead bodies of their friends and that makes his blood boil.

"Easy." Athos murmurs, patting Porthos' shoulder before moving to grab a chair. "Hello, Marsac. How have you been?"

"That's a bit polite when I know you wanna kill me." Marsac laughs and the rest of them sit down, Aramis on his other side and Constance as far away as she can make herself. 

"I am a gentleman and a musketeer. Not a savage and a deserter." Athos speaks calmly and Aramis glares at him, laying a hand on Marsac's shoulder so he doesn't strike out. Porthos reaches across to grab himself and D'Artagnan a cookie off the plate.

"Athos. Hear him out. He knows." Aramis says and Athos' eyebrows shoot up. He strongly doubts that Marsac knows anything other than how to play Aramis. 

"Thanks, Mis." Marsac smiles and Porthos head twitches like a dog that's just heard the word walk, except his eyes look more betrayed and confused than excited.

"Don't call me that." Aramis hisses. "Just tell them what you know." So Marsac does and the silence it leaves behind is deafening, broken only by Porthos chewing.

"The head of one of the biggest departments in France, let alone Savoy, the leader of a massacre? Do you have proof?" Athos inquires, leaning back in his chair and Marsac nods. 

"I can show you." He smiles and gestures to the rope round his feet. "If you would, gentlemen?" 

"I will." Constance gets up and walks round to him. Instead of bending down, she shoves the chair back and Marsac lands on the floor with a small grunt. Porthos and D'Artagnan giggle until they catch her eye. Yanking the chair upright, Marsac is slammed forward into the table. 

"Thanks." He frowns, rubbing the back of his head. "You got a car?" He gets up and Aramis follows him out, Porthos and Athos hot on their heels. 

"I'm coming too. I deserve to know." Constance folds her arms when D'Artagnan tries to stop her.

"We've already put you in enough danger as it is. Stay here where you're safe." D'Artagnan says and she considers this.

"If I do, you owe me." She decides and D'Artagnan nods.

"Whatever you want… well within reason. I don't see-"

Constance squeaks happily and throws herself forward to hug him. She lets go hastily when someone coughs behind them.

"We can't wait all day, D'Artagnan." Athos sighs before walking back out to the car. D'Artagnan sends Constance a fleeting smile before following him.

"So, you and Constance, eh?" Athos says, face completely deadpan. 

"Fuck off." D'Artagnan replies and Athos smiles. "How are you so chipper?" He adds as an afterthought.

"Now you see, D'Artagnan, someone has to lighten the mood and you be surprised at how often I rise to the challenge." Athos- highly uncharacteristically- winks then his smile disappears as they get closer to the car. "Ask her out." He whispers before getting in. 

D'Artagnan doesn't punch him… not just yet. He's aware he and Constance are almost like brother and sister but he wasn't sure what that meant until now. 

\----------------------------------------------

"I found him in a bar." Marsac comments as they walk through the basement. It's difficult to say who it belongs to but it's most definitely abandoned judging from the broken lights, layers of dust and emptiness. "Bragging about killing musketeers." Marsac grabs the man by the collar and kicks him viciously. The man struggles against him, hands tied up to chains on the ceiling. "Tell them what you told me." He hisses, stepping back like he's proud of what he's done to his prisoner. 

"I was a soldier, in the pay of the Head of Savoy-"

"He's not actually the head of-" D'Artagnan goes to point out.

"It's a fucking nickname. Us soldiers don't go around calling him Victor, do we?" The man yells at him and Marsac shoves him back against the wall.

"Tell them!" His voice his hoarse when he shouts like he's been shouting for too long.

"The Head of Savoy sent us to deal with an assassination attempt. We snuck in on Good Friday and killed those bastards as they slept. Dressed up in musketeer uniform so we wouldn't suspect them? Pah,- bloody terrorists- we knew where they were camped. Got tipped off." The man gloats and Aramis lifts his eyes from the floor, his face pale and knuckles white where he's gripping his trousers to stop himself from lashing out. 

"By who? Do you have a name?" He asks, stepping forward, missing the smile that spreads on Marsac's face. 

The man laughs. "I heard the Head and his chancellor, Cluzet,-" Athos and Porthos exchange looks behind Aramis, frowning, "-discussing a name." 

"Who, for god's sake? Who?" Aramis takes another step and Porthos puts a hand on his shoulder to hold him back. 

"Treville. A Captain Treville." There's silence.

"It makes sense." Marsac murmurs, his words echoing and he turns to Aramis. "Can't you see it, Mis? Every man has his price." 

Porthos' hand drops from Aramis shoulder and he steps past him. "You take that back." He says, voice growing louder with every word until he's yelling and fighting Athos to get through. 

"Gentlemen." Athos protests, calm as always, as he shoves Porthos back. "Come on." 

They move away from Marsac and his prisoner, all shaking their heads except Aramis.

"The captain? Really? The traitor who organised the deaths of his own men? No." D'Artagnan says first, getting his view in. "Impossible."

"Someone had to give information. Treville was the one who gave our orders; knew where we were." Aramis says gravely and Porthos' eyes widen in surprise.

"That man would say anything to save his skin. He must have heard Treville's name somewhere." He protests.

"I agree. I don't believe Treville would have- there has to be another explanation." Athos nods then his eyes travel past Aramis to Marsac and the man and the choking sound. "Marsac!" He cries, running forward and pulling him off, hurling him to the floor and keeping him back.

"He's dead, Jim." D'Artagnan announces but no one laughs. It's not a laughing situation. It wasn't to start with and it certainly isn't anymore. 

\-----------------------------------------------

"Who's this Cluzet?" D'Artagnan asks, moving his head away from the window he's leaning on. "The man mentioned a chancellor Cluzet."

Athos gives him a warning look, pointedly looking towards Marsac who's sat between them.

"Who am I going to tell?" Marsac sighs, stretching his feet forward to rest them on the box behind the gearstick. Porthos shoves his feet off, looking round to the three men in the back.

"I don't know much but from what I've heard he's a spy for S.P.A.I.N. He delivers information about what we are doing with his company to them." Porthos explains when Athos rests his head against the window and closes his eyes. 

"Then how did we catch him? Surely spies are careful." D'Artagnan continues and Athos jerks a thumb towards Marsac, still with his eyes closed. D'Artagnan laughs. "Point taken." 

"Here you go." Aramis stops the car outside the manor house that belongs to Louis King and the DST. 

"Cheers Aramis." Porthos says and gets out. No hair ruffle or shoulder pat or award winning- at least in Aramis' book- smile. Just his full name instead. Something sinks like a stone in Aramis' chest and he glances towards Marsac who's mouth is turned up into a small smile. Has Aramis said something or was it Marsac?

"Aramis." Athos gets out and stands by Aramis' window, whispering to avoid being heard. "Ask yourself something: if it is true, what then?" Then he's gone, following Porthos inside. 

Aramis watches them go and has a rather strong desire to throw up, entire body aching. He restarts the car and drives them back to the garrison where D'Artagnan takes Marsac inside.

Aramis stays in the car, hands gripping the wheel like it's a life line. The cold from the storage area filters in through the small gap between the top of his window and the car frame and he shivers. One of his hands goes to the scar on his forehead and he just wishes he could hear something. Anything but the silence that reminds him. 

Desperate to find something to get him out of the nightmare, he grabs his earphone, shoves them in and plays the song he has on his phone. His breathing relaxes as the words wash over him and he slowly realises what it is. It's Porthos singing. One of the songs he sings when Aramis can't sleep or needs someone to be there. He has it on his phone; but how?

Unlocking it, he finds his answer written on notes for him.

_'I know you just as well as you know me. D'Artagnan texted me about your talk, don't bother pretending you're OK. You're a crap liar, Aramis, but it's alright. I'm always here for you. Always. -Porthos'_

Aramis stares down at the words surprised. He shakes his head. _Stop,_ he scolds himself, _you have a job to be doing._ His earphones stay in.

\------------------------------------------------

"Text from Aramis." Porthos says, his lips barely moving as he angles himself so his phone is hidden. "He shot the man in charge of the attack so it should have left a scar somewhere on his back. Roughly shoulder."

Athos merely grunts a little as a response before Victor stalks in. 

"Personal musketeer bodyguards?" He sneers the second he sees Athos and Porthos. Gontard is close behind him, eyes watching them with scrutiny. 

"There is no harm in being too careful." The Cardinal points out, moving forward. "Not with terrorists out there."

"Terrorists who still haven't been caught." Gontard adds, voice soft but deadly sharp.

"A minor issue." The Cardinal waves the comment away and Victor scoffs.

"My life may be a small issue to you, Richelieu, but not to me." He puffs out his chest and towers over the Cardinal, forcing him to step back. 

"I understand but the agreement-" The Cardinal begins talking but Mr Duke is already inspecting Porthos and Athos like they're dogs in a pet show. His frowns slowly breaks into a smile that sends a small chill down both musketeers' spines. 

"I will fight this musketeer." There's silence and Athos just blinks at the man pointing towards him. "If he wins, we discuss this agreement. If I win… then I shall return home." 

"Very well. Fetch some mats." Louis King demands and some of his attendants rush away immediately and return with blue, padded sparing mats, laying them in the centre of the hall. 

"Your man will win?" The Cardinal asks Treville quietly, his nervousness undetectable in his tone. 

"Athos is one of our best men." Treville answers, not wanting to say 'yes' and jinx Athos' chances.

"That was not a proper answer." The Cardinal sighs and turns round to watch.

"Sir, may I suggest you remove loose fitting garments to avoid possible injuries." Athos says politely, his weapons by Porthos' feet along with his shirt after he's tugged it over his head. He's still wearing a tight tank top underneath but Victor is not. 

Porthos nearly drops his phone at the sight of the bullet wound scar on Mr Duke's back but manages to conceal his fumble as no one is really looking towards him except Athos. 

"Shall we go until unconscious or someone calls mercy?" Victor smiles and Anne coughs in a way that suggests she would prefer mercy. Athos looks past his opponent to nod towards her, agreeing to her request.

There is no start. There is no go. The Head of his department simply initiates the fight.

\---------------------------------------------- 

"You remember Marsac, don't you?" Aramis asks Serge, drumming his fingers on the canteen table he's sitting at, earphones still in and music playing. 

The old cook stops and turns round to look at him, tilting his head. "Of course I do." His eyes are full of sympathy that Aramis can see even from his distance away. "It's this visit from Victor Duke, isn't it? Brings back bad memories, doesn't it?" 

Aramis nods, bowing his head and then jumps when a mug of coffee is slid towards him. Serge laughs before returning into the kitchen. 

Aramis takes the mug and slowly sips at it's contents. He closes his eyes and the world begins to feel calmer. He can imagine Porthos beside him, singing softly into his ear and petting his hair gently. He can feel the warmth filling him from head to toe and his body relaxes slightly. He takes a deep breath and opens his eyes, the comfort gone. 

Now he has to get into Treville's computer… which is easier said than done. 

\----------------------------------------------

"Fill me in boy." Constance tosses the tea towel to D'Artagnan as he enters the kitchen, Marsac safely locked upstairs in Flea's room. It hits D'Artagnan in the chest and he takes it before it falls, crossing the room to the sink where Constance is washing up.

"Also they invented dishwashers for a reason." He points out after telling her what happened and Constance rolls her eyes.

"Plates and glasses in the dishwasher. Other stuff by hand. You don't want to seriously put rolling pins or plastic spatulas in there do you?" She pauses and they both burst into giggles. "I sound so posh, Jesus." 

"One does not place this item inside the dishwasher." D'Artagnan mocks through laugher, drying a large mixing bowl and putting it to one side. 

"D'Artagnan stop." Constance whines and flicks water at him out the washing up bowl.

"Alright. Alright." He holds up his hands in surrender.

"Don't you have something else to be doing? Duties?" Constance asks after a while and D'Artagnan can't help but point out the obvious.

"I could ask you the same." 

"I'm-" she stops, leaning against the counter while she considers an answer, "I'm backup. I don't do duties until someone either does something dangerous or fucks up." The words _I'm not good enough_ are left unsaid.

"Don't you want to be out there though?" D'Artagnan questions.

"Of course I do but… oh go watch Marsac or something. If he breaks something, Flea will kill me." Constance takes the tea-towel from him and shoves him towards the stairs. D'Artagnan doesn't even bother trying to protest. 

\----------------------------------------------

It's fair to say Porthos is very good at predicting fights. This isn't like his cards gambling where he keeps a trick up his sleeve, no, he's just an excellent judge of character however this particular fight- it's definitely not friendly sparing- is rather hard to estimate. 

He winces as Athos is kicked to the ground then fights back a smile when Athos uses this to his advantage and flips Victor over his head, pulling himself up and pinning the man down. 

"You look like you want to kill me." Mr Duke hisses, breaking free. 

"What reason could a musketeer have for wanting to kill Victor Duke from Savoy?" Athos inquiries rhetorically, face even but tone almost challenging. This results in behind hurled back against the wall but- curtesy of Porthos' evening training to escape Aramis' girlfriends- Athos runs with the momentum and flips off the marble, much to everyone's- including his own- surprise. There's some gasps of awe and the Cardinal sighs with relief; a man who can do that is definitely going to be able to win.

And that's what Athos does, punching Victor so hard the breath is knocked from him and he stumbles, landing on the ground and raising a hand to shield himself.

"Mercy." He croaks and Athos brushes himself off, wiping his sweaty hands on his top. Porthos is grinning like a proud parent.

"I knew something good would come of Aramis' womanising." He jokes, handing Athos his jacket and requesting a glass of water from the attendants. Treville marches over, face furious.

"You couldn't have kept your special move for someone less influential, could you?" He hisses. "God, Athos, go apologise."

"Excuse me?" Porthos gapes and Athos' expression is the perfect picture of exasperation. Why he puts up with some of this shit he will never know.

He washes himself in the bathroom first, Porthos perched on the sink beside him, flipping his phone in his hand like he's waiting for a call or text. 

"Aramis won't text you back, you know." Athos says calmly, rubbing cool water round his face and the back of his neck. 

"Who said I was waiting for him?" Porthos asks defensively but he knows it was probably quite obvious. 

"He's shaken up by this whole Marsac thing. We need to help him out." Athos continues and Porthos stands up. 

"I already have a bit. I don't steal phones _just_ to change ringtones."

"Not what I meant. Don't pretend you didn't see his face drop when we got out." Athos says and Porthos sighs.

"Marsac calls him Mis too. I feel like I'll just be bringing up back memories." He admits and this time Athos sighs.

"He needs us to carry on like normal. You mean a lot to him, I hope you know that." Athos tells him and Porthos nods.

They exit the bathroom and navigate their way through the manor until they reach Mr Duke's rooms. Porthos signals that he'll stay by the door and Athos nods, knocking but not waiting. 

Inside, Gontard is talking. "I have news." He smirks then turns round to glare at Athos as he enters.

"What?" Victor demands and Athos feels a flash of anger run through him. This man is the reason Aramis has a haunting past and lost a friend. 

"I came…" he pauses then coughs once, "to apologise. I was over zealous." 

"I see." Victor sounds rather suspicious but he lets it slide. "Off with you." 

Despite the command sounding like the way you treat a dog, Athos does as he's bid. Porthos looks ready to skin a man.

"What a pompous ass. I can just imagine him killing…" He shakes his head as they walk a little way from the door. "I don't like Gontard much. I may keep an eye on him." 

Athos nods. "I'll go back and talk to Aramis. Meet us there when you're ready."

\----------------------------------------------

"There was nothing. I looked into every folder but nothing on Savoy. But what's suspicious is that everything else is there." Aramis slumps against the wall of Flea's bedroom, one of her Fall Out Boy posters between him and Athos. D'Artagnan and Marsac are on the other side of the room, one is frowning and one is smiling.

"That doesn't mean it was him." Athos points out and Aramis jumps a little in turning to face him.

"How much more proof do we need?" He yelps before apologising for shouting. He repeats himself quieter, hand curling round his phone and earphones inside his jacket pocket. "What does it take?"

"I will never believe Treville is a traitor." Athos replies calmly and Marsac moves forward to Aramis.

"Let me help you." He holds out his cuffed wrists. "Please, you know me Mis."

"I did. Then you left me." Aramis mutters darkly, eyes unable to meet Marsac'. 

"Everything I've told you so far was the truth." Marsac persists and Athos sighs heavily, reaching to undo the handcuffs. 

There's loud knocking at the door and Aramis practically bounds out the room, eager to get away. He opens the door to reveal Porthos on the other side, wet and dripping due to the heavy rainfall. 

"Mis." He says, stepping inside and Aramis waits about ten seconds before he can't hold himself back. He throws himself against Porthos, wrapping his arms around his friend and burying his face in Porthos' neck. Porthos can pick out the words 'thank you' amongst the fast Spanish that Aramis is half-crying. "Hey, it's alright, Mis. You'll be alright." 

"Promise?" Aramis asks tearfully, pulling back and trying to regain his composure. He has to keep it together; he needs to finish this. 

"I promise. I'd promise anything for you." Porthos leans forward and kisses Aramis' forehead, pushing stray strands of hair out Aramis' eyes. "Except if I promising to do something like jump off a cliff or eat a cat then I don't." He adds and Aramis laughs. A proper laugh and he can't help but feel he hasn't laughed in ages. 

"You've eaten kangaroo and squirrel during your pirate career. What's wrong with cat?" Aramis grins and Porthos shrugs, saluting as Athos appears at the top of the stairs.

"It's probably like the blue drink; I'd end up seeing African animals for days." Porthos whispers and Aramis snorts. He moves so he's standing next to Porthos, their sides touching all the way down, as the others come down stairs. 

Marsac can't touch him if he has Porthos.   
He quickly discovers when they're outside that Marsac doesn't need to be able to touch him. The memories do just as much so his burst of comfort is just washed away by the rain. 

They march to Treville's office and wait outside on the balcony, rain thundering down on the roof and them through holes. Aramis catches himself pacing, a habit he hates, but he can't stop himself doing it. Not even when Porthos starts singing opposite him even thought his rate slows.

"What is the meaning of this?" Treville asks, marching up the steps and looking between the four men outside his door. "Why aren't you with Mr Duke?" The last question is directed to Porthos and Athos but Aramis is the first to speak.

"Five years ago you sent a group of musketeers into Savoy on a training exercise. Only Marsac and myself survived."

Treville lets out a long sighs. "This, is it?" 

"The news interpreted it as an assassination attempt on Victor Duke and that a group of French soldiers happened upon the terrorists to remove the threat. We knew part wasn't true and now we don't believe a word." Porthos steps forward and continues, taking Treville's burning gaze off Aramis.

"Excuse me?" Treville frowns and this time D'Artagnan speaks. 

"We have reason to believe that Victor Duke lead the attack himself."

There's a pause where the only sound is rain and Aramis stepping forward causing boards to squeak.

"You don't seem to surprised." Aramis points out and Treville suddenly turns very defensive.

"Get back to your posts before I lose my temper." He orders before pushing through them and into his office. D'Artagnan has his foot in the door before he can shut it so they just follow him in.

"Did you know it was Duke?" Athos asks, damp hair framing his face and making him look like a cat that fell in a river. 

"I am not accountable to you." Treville retorts, moving round his desk and leaning forward on it.

"You are to the men who died." Aramis puts his hands on his hips, determined to get answers. Half of what he needs to know is written on Treville's face like an open book.

"Be careful, Aramis, you're in dangerous territory." Treville comments and, to Porthos, that sounds like a threat. No one threatens Aramis in front of him, not even Treville.

"So was Savoy for your men." He shoots, removing Aramis from the firing zone for a moment. 

"I shall put this down to a fit of temporary insanity and give you one last chance to **get out**." Treville fumes but no one moves. 

"How did our plans reach him? Who told him our location? Why did he think we were coming to attack him?" Aramis questions.

"Get out!" Treville repeats, yelling now but Aramis simply yells louder.

" **Who killed those musketeers and why?** " He demands, his words so loud they shake the room and the clap of thunder that follows is just like he's showing off. There's a stunned silence where Treville bows his head. Porthos reaches across to Aramis but his hand is brushed away.

"Who have you been speaking to?" Treville says quietly, his breath short like an angry bull's.

"It doesn't matter." Athos answers coldly, stepping forward. "What matters is the truth."

"Leave and I'll spare you a court martial." Treville says finally, knowing he won't get his answer so why should they get theirs?

"One more time, will you answer our questions?" Athos asks, a hand on Aramis' arm to hold him back.

"No." Treville spits and Athos nods, half pulling Aramis out the office and the others follow behind.

"Listen to him. Do you need more proof?" Aramis explodes, rounding on them at the top of the stairs. 

"He didn't admit anything." D'Artagnan points out and Aramis gives a small cry. 

"He didn't have to. Didn't you see his face?" He protests. Treville may not have verbally said it but Aramis knows that man is knee deep in the guilt. "You may be content to do nothing but I'm not. Not this time." He shakes his head and takes the stairs two at a time, walking back across the courtyard. Marsac was right again. He should have know. But what now?

Aramis spends an hour wandering round Paris before he sees Treville again. Desperate for answers, he follows his Captain into Louis King's grounds, keeping out of sight as best he can. The sun has come back out, not a cloud anywhere in sight, as Aramis ducks behind a pillar and pulls his sunglasses out his pocket. 

"They suspect something." Treville says, talking to someone and Aramis shifts slightly to try and see who. 

"You wouldn't want them too dumb however." The Cardinal? Why is Treville talking to the Cardinal of all people?

"I don't want to have to tell them but I feel they have the right to know." Treville sighs and the pair come into sight. Aramis moves round so he'll go unnoticed however his foot lands on a branch which snaps loudly. 

"What?" The Cardinal says exasperatedly as Treville walks back and stares at Aramis for a few seconds before continuing.

"Nothing. Nothing." He lies and the Cardinal nods. 

"Well, if you'll excuse me, I have to be present when Mr Duke signs the agreement." He stalks away after that, boots clicking on the marble tiles. 

Aramis waits until he's gone before stepping out to confront Treville. "You and the cardinal, thick as thieves." He shakes his head, pushing his sunglasses up onto the top of his head. 

"If you think you're above the normal rules here, you are most certainly not. I could have you fired." Treville tries to deter the oncoming question.

"Did you give our location to Victor Duke five years ago? Yes or no?" Birds tweet happily and leaves rustle in the wind but Treville makes no sound. "Did you?" Aramis asks again softly. 

"Yes. I did." Treville answers and Aramis sees white, a flash of rage that cuts across his vision, before he punches Treville so hard he falls. 

"This," he hisses, "is not over." Then he turns and runs before security can be called.

\----------------------------------------------

"I lost him." D'Artagnan sighs, ducking back inside the Range Rover. "This is pointless. We can't follow him if he doesn't want to be."

"He'll be alright." Athos nods, closing the sunroof and starting the engine. "I need a drink." He turns the car round and drives them back to the garrison. Porthos doesn't say a word the entire journey.

"Chin up." D'Artagnan pats his friend's head. "This is Aramis. He knows how to handle himself." 

"Someone should check on Marsac." Porthos says finally, getting out the car and heading to the canteen. 

"I will." D'Artagnan offers and hurries off to Constance's apartment. 

He sound of Constance squeaking in protest makes his blood run cold and he races into the kitchen, punching Marsac so hard he flies to the floor.

"Touch her again and I turn you in." He hisses and there isn't a single part of him that doesn't mean it. 

"Sorry. Sorry. Sorry." Marsac croaks, hands raised in defence as he pulls himself off the floor and goes back upstairs. D'Artagnan watches him until he hears Flea's door close. 

"You alright?" He rushes back over to Constance who nods. 

"Makes a change having other men trying to kiss me." She carries it off as a joke but her hands are shaking slightly. D'Artagnan reaches out and takes them in his own. 

"Have you thought about it yet?" He asks and Constance frowns before realising he's talking about her request. She nods.

"You can't tell anyone though; it's our secret." She leans forward and D'Artagnan's heart starts racing. She doesn't kiss him though. "Teach me how to ride a motorbike." She pulls back grinning.

D'Artagnan blinks. "Um…"

"If I want to get out in the field, I'll need to know more things. Oh, can you help me with my fighting too?" 

D'Artagnan doesn't stand a chance of saying no; something in the back of his mind has informed him he's completely smitten with Constance. "Yeah. OK." He agrees and she laughs, her smile growing into one of the most beautiful smiles D'Artagnan has ever seen. Oh yes, very very smitten.

Once he's checked Marsac isn't destroying anything, he bids Constance goodbye and heads to the canteen. Athos has already got him a coffee. 

"Is that-" he starts to ask when Athos pours something out a flask into his own coffee.

"Well, it's so not vodka because he finished that last month… oh wait, I do remember a new bottle in the cupboard behind the wine." Porthos laughs and Athos quietly flips him off. 

"Behave boys." Serge calls from the kitchen and Porthos just laughs harder. 

The doors slam opens suddenly and a hooded figure walks in. She removes her hood and reveals herself as Victor Duke's wife, Christine Marie. 

"Ma'am." Porthos does a small bow and stops laughing.

"I don't have time to explain. There is an important prisoner here in Paris… one close to my husband." She says, brushing her skirts down. 

"Cluzet? What of him?" Athos gets to his feet, drink still in hand. 

"Victor has gone to the prison to see him. For the sake of the DST, he must not find him." Christine says quickly, eyes darting around like she doesn't even trust the emptiness of the canteen and expects someone to leap out. 

"We cannot do anything about Mr Duke entering." Athos answers politely, drinking his coffee- and vodka if Porthos is to be believed- in one go.

"We can stop him finding Cluzet though." Porthos grins, a plan forming and Athos rolls his eyes. 

"Serge." He calls to the cook who appears almost instantly.

"Yeah?" Serge replies, drying his hands on a fluffy, blue towel.

"We may need your assistance." Athos says as Porthos explains quietly to Mrs Duke what they plan on doing. It's like they telepathically exchanged the idea. 

"I lent you a bottle of Grey Goose just Thursday." Serge reminds him and Porthos snorts, clapping Athos on the shoulder.

"That's not what I meant." The older musketeer mutters. 

"Oh Athos, don't we treat you horribly." D'Artagnan mocks, giggling. Athos cuffs the back of his head, forcing the boy to his feet. He doesn't grace them with an answer, even if Christine is smiling and he does love them anyway. 

\-----------------------------------------------

"You were right." Aramis says, leaning against Flea's bedroom door. "You were right every time." He shakes his head, eyes on the floor so he doesn't notice when Marsac gets to his feet, crossing the room and laying a hand on Aramis' shoulder. 

"I don't blame you for doubting me, Mis, but now we must act." Marsac tilts Aramis' head up, his hand cupping the side of Aramis' face. "This is the only way we will get justice."

For a moment, Aramis' believes him. "But then what? We'd be fugitives." He points out and Marsac grins. 

"Imagine it: you and me living life on the edge. We could get out of Paris, go anywhere. Fake passports and we're done. Leave our old life behind for the better." He explains excitedly then, caught up in the moment, he leans a little forward and kisses Aramis. 

Then Aramis knows Marsac's idea can't be true. He can't kill Treville. He can't be a wanted man. He can't leave everyone behind. He can't leave Athos and D'Artagnan or Constance and Flea… he can't love Marsac like he did 5 years ago and god knows he can't leave Porthos. 

He pushes Marsac back a little. "I can't." He says quietly, looking his old friend dead in the eye. "I did once but I'm sorry." 

Marsac steps back, nodding, a sad smile on his face. "It's fine. I understand. You've moved on from me. We can do this your way."

Aramis breathes a sigh of relief before Marsac's fist collides with his face and the world goes black.

Aramis comes to about five minutes later when his phone starts ringing. He curses the day he ever let Porthos anywhere near his phone when his own voice singing Good Morning from Singing In The Rain starts playing. He lets it go through to voicemail, dumping it on the floor as he realises Marsac has gone. 

Groaning, he pulls himself to his feet and races down the stairs into the courtyard. Aramis runs a hand through his hair, trying to think where Treville will be. The office being his best bet, he crosses the yard as fast as his feet will carry him and up the stairs. He can hear voices in the back where Treville keeps spare weapons and nearly trips over in his haste.

"Marsac. Put the gun down." He says, skidding to a halt in the doorway, his own gun raised. Marsac has Treville backed into a corner.

"No!" Marsac's voice trembles. "He admitted he killed our friends; he deserves to die." 

"I was mislead." Treville yells back in protest. "I had no idea what the Cardinal would do with your orders; all I was told was it would save Mrs Duke's life." 

"You sold your men for a woman?" Aramis frowns. No, that can't be right. 

"She's the DST's most valuable informant about Victor's plans. Cluzet was on the verge of uncovering her." Treville explains, his eyes not leaving Marsac like if he looks away he'll just vanish like a ghost. 

"But you are still responsible." Marsac cannot see any reason to overlook the massacre, staring at Treville with the most pained eyes. 

"Marsac. Please." Aramis begs, watching Marsac's fingers tighten round the trigger. He can't stand to see his friend a murder.

"I'm sorry, Mis, but this has to end here." Marsac shakes his head, pulling another gun out to point at Aramis too. 

"Marsac." Aramis' next plea is drowned out with gun shots. He ducks down, sheltering himself as he fires back. It's over too soon and the colour drains from Marsac's face, a deep red staining his shirt. 

"Aramis." Marsac staggers forward and Aramis is there to catch him. "Better to die a musketeer than live like a dog." 

Those are Marsac's last words, his breath escaping his body with one last rattle. Now Aramis is the murderer, not Marsac. Treville lays a hand on Aramis' shoulder and Aramis finds himself unable to cry, almost like he's already grieved for Marsac when he returned to Paris alone  
.   
Except he's not alone. No, he wasn't alone when Marsac left.

\---------------------------------------------

"You're back late. You weren't answering your phone but did you hear we broke into a high security prison and-" Porthos cuts himself off, staring at the man standing in his doorway. "-you alright, Mis?" Porthos swings his legs off his bed, setting his laptop down on his bedside table, and crosses the room to his friend. "Mis?"

"Marsac's dead. I killed him." Aramis says, his tone empty and broken. There's no tears in his eyes or tracks down his cheeks but Porthos pulls him in for a hug anyway. 

There's no more questions asked about it as Aramis melts into the embrace, shutting his eyes tight against the world. 

"You wanna stay here tonight?" Porthos asks quietly and Aramis nods. Moving his arms down a little, Porthos lifts Aramis off the ground and lays him down on the bed, shutting the door with his foot. 

"Wait, did you say you broke into a high security prison?" Aramis frowns as Porthos switches off the light and lies down beside him, pulling him closer. Porthos' laugh vibrates through him and Aramis shuts his eyes. 

"Go to sleep, Mis. I'll tell you tomorrow." Porthos smiles, carding his fingers through Aramis' hair. 

"Take me out for breakfast?" Aramis requests and Porthos rolls his eyes.

"Goodnight, princess."

When Aramis wakes up, sweating, shivering and wide eyed, Porthos sings to him until he falls asleep again. 

_Yes I have, Marsac,_ Aramis thinks before sleep takes him, _I have got someone else now._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Cheers guys. Reviews are really appreciated and encourage me to keep going because this is quite hard. :/


	5. Chapter Five: The Homecoming

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> An adapted version of episode five… finally.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> GUYS IM SOOOOO SORRY I HAVEN'T UPLOADED IN AGES!!! I have an issue in going off writing, especially when the show stops showing. Never fear, I'm back with the fifth chapter and I hope you all came back to read this!!
> 
> TRIGGER WARNING: MENTIONS OF RAPE, STDs, SHOOTINGS AND DEATH.

_This is not good,_ D'Artagnan thinks, _really really not good._

"Athos, do something." He whines softly over the loud, booming beat of the club speakers. 

"You worry too much." Athos replies, downing another glass like it's no more than water. 

"Worry too much? Porthos is going to shoot a melon off Aramis' head! Does this not worry you?" D'Artagnan knows for a fact that he is probably the only sober one in the bar as he gets awful hangovers so avoids drink like it's the plague. "They're both drunk too."

"He's never done it sober." Athos smiles, watching as Porthos raises his gun. 

"Probably because if he were sober he'd see how likely it is he'll blow Aramis' brains across the wall behind him." D'Artagnan continues and Athos rolls his eyes.

"I didn't need the visual." He says and D'Artagnan gets to his feet. 

"I'm going home." He announces, walking away but he stops by the door to watch Porthos take the shot. 

Silence descends like a blanket as everyone turns to watch. Even the pole dancers lean out to see. 

"Hey, if I die-" Aramis hums, eyes closed and arms outstretched to help him balance, "-I want you to know I love you." 

"Shut up, Mis." Porthos slurs. "Can't concentrate if you're talkin'." That's a lie because Porthos could shoot the melon off Aramis' head with music on full volume and people cheering him on. 

"I don't have all evening." Aramis says. "There's a very nice lady over in the corner who waved at me earlier who I feel I need to-" He is cut off by the shot and explosion that follows. Applause and whoops erupt from the crowds of people in the bar and Aramis plucks a bit of melon out his hair to nibble at. 

"Hey, Mis. Wanna try blindfold?" Porthos deadpans then giggles at Aramis' expression so hard that Athos sits him down before he can fall. 

"Where's D'Art going?" Aramis asks, sitting on Porthos' lap because he can't be bothered to get his own seat. 

"Home." Athos answers and Aramis nods, leaning back and resting his head against Porthos'. 

"We do need someone to take care of us tomorrow." Porthos chuckles, his arms wrapping round Aramis' waist. 

"What's wrong with nurse Aramis?" Athos jokes and Aramis tries to punch him, unable to quite reach. 

"Nurse Aramis resents the nickname." He grumbles and Porthos laughs. 

"Come on." He says, getting to his feet and pulling Aramis with him. "Let's get another drink."

Athos watches them go and wonders if they're sober enough to remember any of the affection they're giving each other. 

\---------------------------------------------

"Mis. Mis. Aramis. Fuck ow. Aramis!" Aramis jerks awake and promptly falls off the sofa, although really he wasn't technically on the sofa. Porthos glares at him from the cushions. "I can't feel my leg or my arm 'n' it's your fault." He complains and Aramis groans.

"My head feels like I've been hit by a bus again." He covers his eyes with his arm and curls up into a ball. "I'm also bloody freezing but happy birthday." 

Porthos sighs like he's made a decision he'll regret. "Come here. I can't have you dying on me." He shifts back on the sofa to give Aramis some room and the latter gladly claims the space. 

"What's the time?" Aramis mutters, closing his eyes and relaxing against Porthos, humming as an arm is draped across his waist. 

"Time to go back to sleep." Porthos replies, shifting his legs so they end up tangled with Aramis'. "So shut up." 

"Are we doing anything fun today?" Aramis continues talking and Porthos groans.

"I will shove you back on the floor unless you shut your pie hole." He mutters, breath warm against Aramis' ear. 

"Treville loves you. He probably gave you the day off, didn't he? Athos, D'Artagnan and I will have to save the world and you can sleep in." Aramis sighs, rolling over so they're face to face, foreheads pressed together. 

"I can't do any sleeping unless you stop talking." Porthos opens his eyes to stare at him, glaring halfheartedly. 

"I'm just pissing you off, you know. Birthday treat." Aramis smirks and Porthos frowns.

"How about as a treat you grab me some aspirin." He says with a yawn, shutting his eyes again. 

"Alright. I'll stop talking." Aramis agrees, shifting to get comfortable. Porthos falls asleep almost instantly and Aramis stares at the rise and fall of his chest until he too drifts off.

It's actually Athos who wakes them which is surprising; he's not normally up early.   
"So," he says, setting two water glasses on the table before them, "Treville texted me." He moves over to the breakfast bar where he's already got himself cereal and coffee. "He didn't really want this to happen over your birthday, Porthos, but this mission is specialist to you." 

"In my opinion, it's too early for mission briefs." Porthos says, rolling Aramis onto the floor and getting up. Aramis makes a mild protest but seems content to just lay on the carpet. 

"You won't think that in a minute." D'Artagnan speaks up, having been hidden behind cupboards. It's now clear that Athos has not made is own breakfast. 

"Why?" Porthos yawns, sliding onto a stool, water glass in hand. 

"There's a good chance Flea is in trouble. You're aware she's been on a mission for a few months now?" Athos says, stirring his cereal before realising it's not his coffee. 

"Yeah. Cause we used her room with-" 

"I'm gonna go take a shower." Aramis announces loudly to avoid the name drop and Porthos catches himself before he can finish. Although Aramis is mostly over the Marsac incident, it isn't something he likes to mention. 

"Yeah, OK Mis. What about Flea?" Porthos smiles at him before turning back to Athos and D'Artagnan. 

"She was meant to get out of the Court yesterday with the information but we haven't had a word from her since she went in." Athos says, now stirring the correct item. "Treville wants you to go in and help her then get her out." 

"Treville wants me to help Flea?" Porthos snorts. "He must be mad. If she wants to stay in the Court, what's the problem?" 

"She's looking for where the illegal gunpowder went. Chances are if she's in there too long she'll find it when it's too late." D'Artagnan explains, sitting down with a mug of tea in his hand. He looks a lot livelier than the rest of his friends because he's hangover free. He has one word for that: ha.

"Gunpowder? How did someone get that into Paris in the first place?" Porthos frowns. Is security truly that poor in France? The Red Guards really need to up their game. 

"It doesn't matter now. You're the only musketeer with knowledge of the Court and Flea trusts you too. Treville has found a few leads outside that he wants us to take so we're all on the same case." Athos slides his phone across the counter for Porthos to read the text. He nods, humming a little.

"Alright. I'll go. Don't have anything better to do anyway." 

There's a sudden yelp from the bathroom and sound of the door slamming echoes through. "Porthos Du Vallon! Get your fucking recorder out the fucking shower fucking now!" Aramis yells, marching round with just a towel round his waist, hair dripping and slightly soapy. Porthos laughs so hard he has to hold onto the breakfast bar and even Athos is grinning. 

"Where is it?" He asks innocently and Aramis glares.

"You shouldn't have to ask if there's only one." He seethes and stalks back round to the bathroom. 

"Which one do you think he's found? One on the shower head, one on the door hinge or the one in the drain?" Porthos asks and D'Artagnan laughs so hard his side hurts. 

"So that's why the water pools at your feet if you stay in for too long." Athos rolls his eyes. "I'd say drain."

"I noticed the hinge." D'Artagnan says. "It doesn't match the one on the other side so it looks suspicious."

"Porthos!" Aramis screams again and Porthos gets to his feet, grinning.

"Coming, princess." He calls back. "He's found another." He adds quieter. "I may just take them all down and put them in different places later." 

"I always wondered how he recorded Aramis singing." D'Artagnan muses when Porthos has gone. "Honestly, I wouldn't have been surprised if they showered together for the recordings."

"Didn't need the visual." Athos mutters into his coffee and D'Artagnan grins. Aramis' indignant shout upon finding the final recorder makes him choke on his tea.

"You wanker. I am never letting you borrow my Star Trek DVDs again!"

\-----------------------------------------------

The Court Of Miracles is just as Porthos remembers it. The same dirty buildings, same dirty roads, same dirty people. The poorest part of Paris and his old home. It's hard to believe for most that Porthos grew up in an area no better than slums but, wearing only jeans, a shirt and a hoodie, he blends into the crowds so well like part of him belongs among them. 

"It's his birthday. Why are we doing this now?" D'Artagnan sighs, leaning out the back window like a dog just minus the tongue. "What if he gets hurt?"

Aramis' head turns so fast that there may have been a crack. "This is Porthos. He'll be fine here." 

"But it's all beggars and thieves and criminals." D'Artagnan protests, fiddling with his earphones. There's only so much Kelly Clarkson he can stand.

"That's how they survive. Besides, you were all for this earlier." Athos says and the young man has no answer to that. 

"I hope Flea's OK." Aramis sighs, putting his phone away and switching the engine back on. "Truth be told, I think I may have started missing her a little."

"That's the biggest lie you've told this week." Athos snorts.

"No, I'm serious." Aramis continues, turning them out of the Court and into the road. "I'm over the pranks." 

"Pranks?" D'Artagnan is interested now, leaning back inside the car and shutting the window.

"You'll learn when she gets out." Aramis smirks and Athos rolls his eyes. Secretly, he can't wait to see what Flea will pull on their young friend. 

However, the pranks Flea pulls fall terribly short of the traps she lays for those she wishes to catch. That's how Porthos ends upside down by his feet in the doorway. He sighs, folding his arms, examining the room in it's upended state. It's dirty, much like everything else, with auburn furnishings but the walls are blank; no pictures, no posters, no paintings.

"Well, I must say this is unexpected." Flea comments as Porthos swings round to face her. She's lying on a red lounge, hair unbrushed and falling down her shoulders as she turns the page of her book. "Isn't it your birthday today?"

"Yeah, it is." Porthos attempts a nod before deciding not to bother. "Or at least, I've decided it is."

Flea rolls her eyes and tosses a knife at the rope holding Porthos to the ceiling. "You know what I mean." She says as he lands heavily on the floor. "Also, no."

"You don't even know what I was gonna ask!" Porthos groans, sitting up as the blood rushes back out his head. "But why not?"

"I have this covered." Flea acts like she's reading but the book is very clearly upside down. 

"You were meant to be out a few days ago at the latest. You never miss a deadline so why are you still here?" Porthos moves and plucks the book from her dirty hands, turning it the right way round before replacing it. 

"Haven't found the barrels yet." She shrugs which isn't a lie but she is holding something back from him. They were lovers once but they're more like siblings than they both dare to admit. Flea was once captured and used as bait for him because they believe they were related.

"Because they're hard to find or because you don't want to?" Porthos sits down at her feet and her breath halts for a nanosecond before continuing; that's her tell-tale sign that Porthos has learnt to recognise and she knows his better than he does. 

"Do you remember when this was home? You and me living lives of our own; doing whatever we wanted, whenever we wanted. You remember when you came back from your pirate experience and the Court cheered for your return? Prince Porthos the Pirate. So many 'p's and that little girl had trouble pronouncing them all. And I was a princess here. You and me as royalty? We never dreamed of it when we were small but look at us now. Prince Porthos and Princess Flea, the musketeers." Flea talks excitedly, her blue eyes shining. She laughs and leans forward to rest her head on Porthos' shoulder. "You remember?"

"I remember the month I spent on crutches with an infected leg when we couldn't visit hospital. I remember the screams of the woman who's child got hit in the street by a van but no one cared. I also remember when you got raped aged 16, caught chlamydia and we barely could afford the treatment. I remember thinking I would never get out. I spent three months 'n' eight days in jail over a loaf of bread and a brawl. Then Treville found me and I actually had a purpose. I had a reason to get up in the morning other than my imminent death here. I had Athos and Constance, now I have D'Artagnan and I've always had Aramis. I can't imagine where I'd be without them; without him." Flea's face pales throughout his speech but she somehow manages to smile now.

"You really care for him, don't you?" She says, leaning back and getting to her feet. 

"He's my brother. Of course I care." Porthos frowns, watching as she fiddles with the spines of books on the shelf.

"Incest. Ew. Still, I won't judge." Flea grins and pulls the thinnest book down. The wall shifts out like a door to reveal a small space of weapons storage. 

"I don't like him like that." Porthos rolls his eyes as she attaches knives to her belt. 

"Don't you?" Flea looks over her shoulder at him as he steals her space. 

"You've changed the topic though." Porthos says, changing the topic himself. "This mission… mmpfh!" Flea leaps across the room to press a hand over his mouth. She watches the door like she's expecting someone to come in.

"Licking my hand is childish." She says finally when she feels it's clear, pulling back and wiping her hand on Porthos' sleeve. "You have to be careful what you say. We're undercover."

"We're?" Porthos narrows his eyes. 

"I assume Treville sent you to help me so, yes, we're." Flea promptly sits on him, shifting around so she's comfortable. "Also," she presses a quick kiss to his cheek, "happy birthday."

\--------------------------------------------

"Flea, what are doing sneaking around?" Porthos' heart leaps at Charon's voice. He hasn't seen Charon in fifteen years, maybe more. 

"I've brought you a surprise." Flea grins and pulls Porthos out into the main hall. The hall is just the same, same large tinted windows, same drapes all across the ceiling, same stone flooring.

"No fucking way!" Charon's eyes widen. "Porthos?" 

"Charon." Porthos grins, covering the space between them in seconds to pull his old friend into a hug. 

"Jesus Christ. It's been too long, mate." Charon says, squeezing hard before letting go.

"It's good to see you. How are you?" Porthos asks politely. It really has been too long since he has seen Charon. 

"Much better for seeing you. Innit your birthday?" Charon smiles crookedly; his smile had always been a little lopsided as a boy, Porthos remembers, but it looks like he's been fighting recently. 

"You remember." Porthos laughs.   
"Course I do." Charon rolls his eyes like that should have been obvious. "You hungry? We can go out for lunch."

As much as Porthos loved the Court, he would prefer to spend as little time as possible there. "Catch up over milkshakes and fries? Charon, you are too predictable." He smiles as Flea slips something into his pocket silently. 

"You coming too Flea?" Charon turns to her but doesn't appear to have noticed. 

"I missed Porthos just as much as you! Of course I am." Flea moves to punch Charon's shoulder lightly. 

"This is like old days." Charon smiles happily, putting his arms around Porthos and Flea's shoulders. "God, those were good. Do you remember when we-" Charon continues talking about their adventures the whole way to the cafe. Flea rests her head against Charon's arm, watching him through her eyelashes while Porthos looks around every nook and cranny he can see for a trace. 

It's only when there's a large cookies and cream ice-cream milkshake in front of him and a tray of fries to share at the centre of the table does Porthos realise that he should probably do some talking.

"Tell me about the musketeers then, mate." Charon says through a mouthful of chips. "What's up with the respectable side of town?"

Porthos tells him about various exciting adventures, meeting Constance and D'Artagnan, Athos' house and almost starts talking about Marsac. He doesn't though, knowing how much Aramis would appreciate that- which is not at all.

"And Porthos has a boyfriend." Flea chips in at the end. Charon chokes on his strawberry milkshake. 

"No way? Prince Porthos swings the other way too?" He grins once he's regained his composure.

"He's not my boyfriend, Flea." Porthos rolls his eyes but he's sure he's blushing. 

"Tell me about this 'boyfriend'," Charon begs, "whether you're dating or not. Fill me in on the deets."

Porthos has no choice but to agree.   
"His name's Aramis. He's tall, dark haired, some part Spanish with the accent and skin to prove it, deep brown eyes, ruggedly handsome but not quite like Athos more like neatly ruggedly dashing." He pauses and Charon grins at Flea. 

"Well, I'd tap that one too. Get there before I do." Charon jokes but there is something inside of Porthos' gut that feels rather uncomfortable suddenly and sort of possessive. He brushes it away as hunger and eats some more fries. 

\---------------------------------------------

"The father again? Bloody hell, it's all backwards and forwards, isn't it?" Aramis sighs, getting back into the car and lowering the roof. D'Artagnan ducks out of reflex and then glares when Athos smirks at him. 

"Never mind. At least no one is trying to shoot at us." Athos straps himself in and closes is eyes as Aramis pulls back out into the road. 

"Always the optimist, aren't you, Athos?" D'Artagnan kicks the back of Athos' seat gently, resulting in a grunt and the middle finger. 

"Children, play nice." Aramis rolls his eyes the proceeds to almost crash into an oncoming truck. "Bastard! Get on the right side of the road, you fucking twat!" He screams as he swerves out the way. 

"Aramis, turn the car round and follow the lorry." Athos orders and Aramis, fuelled by road rage, looks like he wants to say something rude again and possibly punch Athos in the face. "That's the company the father works for."

"It's heading to the Court!" D'Artagnan types furiously on his phone, presenting them with the route course.

"Ah fuck." Aramis sighs and does a rather risky u-turn without even giving warning. "I knew we should have left this case."

\---------------------------------------------

"Alright, let's nose around." Flea says once Charon has shut his door, the false smile slipping off her face. 

"You know you should have already done this." Porthos reminds her and she snorts indignantly. 

"I have. I didn't find anything however maybe you will." She opens a store cupboard door and checks inside, remerging with dust in her hair and a large spider crawling over her fingers.

"God, don't." Porthos takes one look at it and shudders. 

"I'll name it Aramis." She smirks. "Wanna kiss it?"

"Just tell me where the largest storeroom is that is unused and relatively abandoned." Porthos fixes her with a stern glare and Flea sets the spider down. 

"Follow me." She says, heeled boots clicking on the floor as they march purposefully through the corridors, weaving through the occasional crowd. One woman pulls at Flea's arm and asks her if she'll attended the party later. 

"Party?" Porthos frowns once they've pulled away.

"Charon's idea. He told me it would be a blast." Flea shrug then pauses. Her eyes widen, her hand on the doorknob to the cupboard. "Oh my god." In an instant, she's let go and is hurtling off down the corridor. 

"Flea!" Porthos calls after her but it's clear she isn't coming back. Deciding quickly that she is capable of handling herself, he opens the door and turns on the torch he 'borrowed' from one of the men in the hall.   
Inside is empty but there's a slither of light coming from what appears to be an outside door. Porthos would have happily overlooked this if it weren't for the sound of voices. 

"Keep the exits guarded. No one gets out and no one gets in. Especially the ones with the Audi."

The gunpowder was never in the Court; it was intended for the Court. No wonder Flea couldn't find it. Porthos slams the door just in time to avoid being seen. 

"Place the powder in all the rooms we specified." Porthos' blood runs cold; Charon. Why would Charon want to blow up the Court? Why would Charon smuggle illegal gunpowder? 

"Shit. Flea." Porthos breathes before haring off down the corridor. There's nothing he can do about the gunpowder on his own anyway.

\-------------------------------------------

"Halt. No one is to enter the Court under order from the King." The skinny man who stares at them has two pistols. This strikes Athos as odd as they appear to be high quality and he wonders how a man who looks like a drowned ferret afforded them. 

"We are here to see our friend. We don't want trouble." Athos states and the skinny man's fingers twitch towards the guns. 

"Orders of the King of the Court. No one enters." 

The loud crack of a shot makes all four men jump. Aramis whirls round, gun raised, searching the roof tops. 

"Say, you know anything about illegal gunpowder?" D'Artagnan asks the guard and his hand moves towards the weapon. D'Artagnan brings his elbow into contact with the man's face and knocks him unconscious. 

"Text from Treville." Aramis says, fiddling with his earpiece as it reads out his message. "We've arrested him now. The gunpowder is in the Court for sure; set to detonate soon. Do something."

"Well, consider this something." Athos sighs and raises his gun, moving forward into the streets. He shoots at anyone who shoots at him, D'Artagnan close behind and Aramis scaling the scaffolding to get a vantage point.

\---------------------------------------------

"Flea! Flea!" Porthos calls, skidding round the corner and coming face to face with the girl in question. "Are you bleeding?" He asks, shocked. The white of her shirt is stained red along with her finger tips.

"Charon. He shot me. He's working with them. He's HYDRA." She gasps, rushing her words and referencing Marvel at the same time. Porthos gets close to telling her now isn't the time but the gun barrel at his neck makes him think otherwise.

"HYDRA? Forget HYDRA. I'm John Garrett and I don't need HYDRA." Charon's once soft voice is sharp as a blade. 

"What is this? Agents Of SHIELD day or something?" Porthos sighs. "Charon, don't do this." 

"You wouldn't even know what this is. This is a new beginning; a new life that I can finally afford." Charon says, sending chills down Porthos' spine. 

"What happened to the loving boy I knew when we were young? The boy who jumped into the road to save a cat or climbed a tree to help a small child?" Flea asks, her breathing laboured and one hand pressed firmly over her bullet wound. 

"He grew up and learnt what the world was really like." Charon turns on her, the gun moving enough for Porthos to swing round and pull it out his grip, sending it skidding across the floor. 

Charon takes one look at his discarded weapon and runs. 

"He's got the light. He's the one lighting it." Flea pants, leaning back against the wall, reaching out for Charon's gun with her foot. "Go." She shoves Porthos hard and he races away. Slowly and very carefully, Flea slides down the wall so she's sitting on the ground. She reaches in her pocket for her phone, hands shaking.

\--------------------------------------------

"Text from Flea. Barrels are in the four corners of the main building. Charon is in the East." Aramis reports and Athos taps D'Artagnan's shoulder, pointing him to go round the back. Aramis ducks as a bullet whizzes over his head before shooting back. He leaps down from the scaffolding onto another guard, pinning him down easily. 

"Where's Porthos?" He hisses. "For gods sake, where?"

"Probably with Charon." The man chokes, gagging at the force pressed on him. Aramis knocks him out and moves on.

\-----------------------------------------------

"Charon!" Porthos bellows, the room echoing. Charon doesn't stop, turning into the main room they met in earlier. 

"If you want a fight, brother, I can give it to you." Charon hides behind the door and leaps on Porthos as he enters. Porthos tosses him off as if he were only a child. 

"I don't want to fight you." He says between punches and blocks. "I want you to stop this madness." 

Charon laughs, ramming a knife into Porthos' shoulder causing the larger man to cry out. "I knew you wouldn't be here without a reason. Flea I could understand but you? No. You never loved the Court enough to drop by." He kicks Porthos in the chest, forcing him to his knees. "There had to be a reason." 

"Charon. Please." Porthos begs one last time. This is Charon's last chance and the door is closing. 

"I don't think so." Charon goes to punch Porthos up from the jaw to knock him unconscious but Porthos rolls out the way, dirt and dust sticking to his clothes and the sweat on his arms. Charon leaps onto him, the pair rough and tumbling like they did as children. But they're different men now; different men on different paths with different endings. 

Porthos is now on his knees again with Charon's blade pressed against his neck. One sharp move and he'll be gone in seconds. "Do it. If you're going to do it, do it." 

\---------------------------------------------

"Flea! You're hurt." Athos rounds the corner and almost trips over her in his haste. 

"Porthos. He's fighting Charon. Gunpowder. You have to stop them. Go." She shoves at his ankle, a place he's normally ticklish but Athos' face is stone cold.

"Where's the fuse?" He asks, dropping down to her level. 

"Ugh. Storeroom. Forth…fifth…sixth door! Sixth door on the left. That way." Flea thinks deeply, creases appearing on her forehead like she has to think hard. Athos stands back up again and dusts off his knees. 

"D'Artagnan, east wing. Sixth door on the left." He starts walking away, his phone in his hand briefly before he replaces it with a gun and begins running. 

"Hey, Grumpy!" Flea calls after him. "Don't get us blown up." 

Athos rolls his eyes and runs faster, boots echoing in the mix of silence, screams and gunshots. The closer he gets to the door, the more guards jump out at him but they don't stand a chance. 

"Hey!" He yells when he sees a figure entering the sixth door that he knows isn't D'Artagnan. The man, as he turns out to be, whirls round, a fire torch ablaze in his grasp. Athos is vaguely aware of the words "when did this become the seventeenth century?" leaving his mouth and the deep sigh when the man draws a sword. 

He doesn't need a second shot and he catches the torch before it can hit the floor, putting it out on something that won't cause an explosion. 

"You called but obviously don't need me." D'Artagnan rounds the corner. Athos almost finds the ability to smile. 

"Guys." Aramis' voice comes wafting through the phone at D'Artagnan's belt. "I have a shot on Charon. Do I take it?" 

"Aramis." Athos almost leaps at the phone because of the tone Aramis has; one of anger and one of feat.

"He's got a knife on Porthos. Tell me now or I choose." Aramis' voice cracks slightly and he can hear blood rushing in his ears. Everything seems to slow down as Athos and D'Artagnan race back round but they're too late.

"I'm choosing." Aramis says and pulls the trigger. 

Glass shatters in the window, Charon's breath hitches and his grip slackens. Porthos ducks out and spins Charon round so he's holding him. 

"Charon." 

"He's a good shot. I hope he loves you proper. Hope he makes you happy." Tears roll Charon's cheeks and down Porthos' too as one brotherhood dies. 

Porthos has never really been one for mourning but he struggles to get to his feet. He leaves Charon's body on the floor and walks out. He doesn't stop for Athos or D'Artagnan or Flea despite the calls of his name that follow him. He does stop when Aramis catches his arm as he tries to walk past. 

"I'm sorry." Aramis manages, the words getting stuck in his throat. 

"Don't be. It's your job." Porthos shrugs him off, folding his arms over his chest. His eyes are completely dry now.

"My job? My job is to protect people not snipe them. I've killed seven people today, Porthos. Seven." Aramis' hands twitch nervously at his sides. 

"Seven to save thousands. Seven to save Flea. Seven to save me." Porthos unfolds his arms and gingerly takes Aramis' hands in his own. "You saved my life." 

Aramis makes a small choked noise, somewhere between a sob and a laugh. "Well, happy birthday then."

\---------------------------------------------

"Get in the car, Porthos." Aramis sighs, opening the door from the inside. "I have to clean her out anyway." 

"This is favouritism." Flea frowns a little but she's mostly smiling, squashed between Athos and D'Artagnan in the middle. 

"Damn right it is." Aramis grins at her, fist bumping Porthos once he's sat down. 

"I swear they weren't this bad before I left." Flea mutters to Athos while Porthos sets his feet on the dashboard and Aramis starts the car. 

"Lots of things happened while you were gone." D'Artagnan chips in helpfully and Flea raises her eyebrows.

"Do enlighten me." She shrugs, ducking as the roof folds back behind her. Her belongings are in the boot and she's finally brushed her hair. Flea is coming home again.

\---------------------------------------------

"Hey." Aramis smirks, leaning on the doorframe. Porthos looks up from his tablet and smiles.

"Hey yourself. It's like 11pm. What's up?" 

"Come with me." Aramis says, beckoning. Porthos gets to his feet and follows. 

"Oh my fucking god, you didn't." His jaw drops at the laptop box sitting on the counter. "Aramis, those cost over a thousand pounds!" 

"A minor dent in my budget." Aramis shrugs, grinning from ear to ear. He picks up the box and hands it to Porthos. "All for you." 

"You serious bought me a MacBook?" Porthos takes it, rather stunned. He sets it down gentle and pulls Aramis into a massive hug. "You are genuinely the most amazing person ever." 

"Right back at you." 

"Are you two gonna kiss now or can you stop squealing so I can sleep?" Athos yells sleepily from his room and the pair blush. They let go of each other and take a step back before heading back to their rooms. 

"Porthos." Aramis whispers. Porthos turns to face him, hand on his door handle, laptop box in his arms. "Goodnight." Aramis leans forward and kisses Porthos' cheek lightly before almost running down the corridor and disappearing into his room.

"Night." Porthos says to the empty corridor and sighs. God forbid his next birthday is even more interesting.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks so much for reading! I'm not sure when the next chapter will be because I have to rewatch the episode and I have exams coming up soon but hopefully I'll get it out before the summer holidays!!!  
> Thanks again.
> 
> (Also, I couldn't resist with the Marvel/HYDRA reference. Sorry.)


	6. Chapter Six: The Exiles

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Maria King crashes a dinner party. A small child can destroy the DST. Aramis doesn't get enough sleep and Athos drops the heartless approach to things.  
> It's basically like episode six but modern (and poorly written) YAY!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A modern adaptation. It's quite different to the episode as there isn't much with Louis or Maria or the Cardinal; it's mostly focused on our boys (and Constance)!   
> Also, Aramis is a bit of a daredevil stuntman so the escape is different.   
> Because of the modern setting, some of the exciting fight scenes had to be cut. Sorry but Constance couldn't kick arse in this version.
> 
> Hope you enjoy.

"Well don't you fellas look dashing." Flea steps out her car, the house lights spotlighting her, black heels making her taller by a long way. She's in a tight black dress to match, her hair straightened and hanging over her shoulder. Her eyeliner, as Constance described it earlier, could kill a man. 

Constance gets out the car on the other side, wearing the same colours but her dress has white skirt that sticks out. Aramis grins because it looks exactly like the dress Taylor Swift wore to sing Treacherous in concert. 

"It's a diner party." Athos shrugs, eyes standing out from the suit he's wearing. There's no doubting that he is best designed for suits but the others do look equally as handsome. "It is rather the point."

"Except we don't get to sit with the cool kids." Porthos reminds them, opening the glass door to the mansion of Louis King for the others.

"I dunno. You get to sit with me." Aramis grins, striding inside like he almost owns the place. Porthos groans. 

Athos holds out an arm to Flea and D'Artagnan to Constance. The girls take the offer smiling and follow Aramis. 

"This place is amazing." Constance whispers, eyes wide and darting around. Almost everything is detailed and covered in elaborate paintings or wallpaper with modern flares everywhere. 

"Keep up or you'll get lost." Aramis calls to them. "Trust me, I've been here before." He then turns to Porthos, smiling. "You gonna offer me your arm?"

"Only if you put on a skirt." Porthos rolls his eye but holds out his arm away. It is most definitely worth it for the look on Treville's face which sends them into giggles.

"I don't think we've worn suits for a long time. I can't remember when." Aramis says once they've all sat down at their designated table at the side and the starters have been placed on the table. 

"Was it the one in Calais?" Flea asks, picking at the food and putting it in her mouth in the least uncivilised way. "Where Athos managed to rip half of one leg trying to climb a fence?" 

Athos groans as the others burst into laughter. "At least I didn't get caught." He stares intently at Aramis who winks. 

"The security guard was hot. What can I say?" 

In the pause between the main and dessert, Athos' catches someone's eye across the hall and chokes on his wine. Porthos pats his back forcefully and Constance offers her napkin. 

"You alright?" D'Artagnan asks before the others do. Athos nods but his face looks paler than before. He remains silent for a while after, staring at his hands.

They get half way through the dessert course when there's a loud bang as the door is thrown open. The resonating clicks of cocking guns echoes through the hall as the six leap up, Aramis jumping onto his chair to get better aim. 

"I see your employees have quick reflexes." The woman in the doorway says slyly, glancing at them. "I wouldn't want anything but protecting my little boy." 

There's a gasp as all the other members of the hall- mainly friends of Louis or Anne and business partners- turn their heads to Mr King. 

"Last time we spoke, you were trying to overthrow my company." He says slowly, his face pale and one hand gripping the arm of his chair so tight his knuckles are white. 

"I was trying to do what's best for you." Marie King advances through the lines of tables quickly, shoes clicking. 

"Ladies and gentlemen," The Cardinal stands suddenly, "if you could please head to the parlour." And they do with a clatter of chairs and scraping of tables. 

"That means you six." Treville adds quietly and the group lower their weapons, following the guests out. He follows them out also. "I want you two to stay with me-" Treville points to Athos and Porthos,"- and I have an assignment for the other two." Flea and Constance open their mouths to protest, knowing they will be the ones left out but Treville shoes them away. 

"What do you need us to do, sir?" D'Artagnan asks and Treville pulls a file out his suit. 

"There is a baby in a small village we nee you to collect. The mother too if you can. Leave now as it will take you all night and is of the most importance." 

Aramis and D'Artagnan nod before hurrying away, pausing to say goodbye to Athos and Porthos. The smashing of a chair follows their departure and the captain and two remaining musketeers race back into the room.

"Suddenly because there is an attempted assassination I should trust you?" Louis yells, Anne holding his arm tightly. 

"I just want safety." Marie responds, hands in her hair like she wants to pull it out. 

Porthos zones out for the rest of the conversation, his mind wandering to places it shouldn't while he's on duty. 

"Were you even listening?" Athos asks when Porthos follows him out the room around five minutes later. 

"Huh?" Porthos blinks, snapping back to reality while Athos sends Flea a text and leans against her car. Aramis' car is gone.

"We're leaving early tomorrow to look for evidence of the assassination." Athos rolls his eyes. "I swear I am the only mature adult." 

"It's alright. You're not nearly as mature as you make out." Porthos claps his shoulder briefly then groans. "I have night shift in three hours."

"What? Midnight shift?" Athos smiles a little. "Oh yeah. Flea told me someone else got that." 

"It's in a dangerous territory too. I'm gonna get shot, I bet you." 

"Ten euros says you won't."

"Done."

\----------------------------------------------

"So, we're looking for a baby-" D'Artagnan repeats for the forth time, "-because the Cardinal got an email which said the baby could damage the company. Why? How could a baby possibly damage a police and military force?"

"Right now, I'm too tired to care." Aramis yawns, rubbing his eyes and stopping the car. He falls asleep temporarily, waking himself up when his face hits the steering wheel. Fortunately, it doesn't sound.

"I'll drive back." D'Artagnan smiles and climbs out the car. In an instant, he's racing away towards something. "Aramis!"

"Fucks sake." Aramis gets out the car and runs after him, only realising what is happening when he's shot at. _Men after the baby no doubt_ , he thinks, _great_.

The mother of the baby, Agnes it said on the file, is screaming and kicking, desperately trying to reach the baby which is in the hold of a masked man. When he notices the pair of musketeers, he signals to his men and they run for cover. D'Artagnan hares after them while Aramis grabs the mother.

"Hey. Hey. Ow! Do you mind?" He yelps when she knees him in a sensitive area. "I'm helping you!"

"By letting men take my son?" She questions then burst into loud sobs, collapsing into his arms. Aramis tries hard not to collapse with her, sleep deprivation draining his ability to be charming and witty and stand up.

When D'Artagnan comes back, he has no child on his arms but a half smile on his face. 

"I bugged their car. They should be heading back to Paris from what we know off the file so… I'll drive?" The young man shakes his head as Aramis helps Agnes to the car, the pair stumbling along together.

"Yes. You will."

\----------------------------------------------

"You owe me ten." Porthos says quietly, breaking the silence. Athos looks at him from the driver seat of the Range Rover, eyebrows raised. 

"Oh?"

"Mm." Porthos nods and pulls his shirt and jacket up a little, revealing the bandage wrapped around his stomach. "In the side though so I'm functionally."

"Pity." Athos sighs then grins as Porthos punches him in the arm. The silence descends again.

"Alright; talk to me." Porthos folds his arms and Athos frowns.

"What?"

"You've been slightly off lately. What's going on?" Porthos asks; he's not completely oblivious.

Athos watches him wearily for a moment before sighing. 

"Everything just seems vicious suddenly. It's like we're not protecting people; we're…" he pauses to shrug, taking his hands off the wheel for a moment, "I don't know." It's not quite what Porthos was hoping to discuss but he understands the point.

"Making unnecessary sacrifices." He finishes for him. "Like we've stopped caring for those we were protecting. I know." He nods and lays a hand on Athos' shoulder. "Tell you what," he says after a moment of silence, "when this is over, I'll take you out for a pint sometime, yeah?"

"Make it two and you've got yourself a deal." Athos smiles a little and Porthos laughs. 

"Yeah, alright." 

They arrive soon after, getting out the car and putting on their sunglasses as the sun is so bright. 

"What are we looking for again?" Porthos asks, kicking at the leaves on the track. 

"Bullets? Splintered bark maybe? Anything that shows there was a shooting." Athos answers, scanning the rows of trees on either side. 

"And are we sure we may find something?" Porthos frowns. He's no expert on things like forensics or generally analysing crime scenes in the first place but it's very clear there is little here to find, if anything.

"Treville didn't seem to think so." Athos admits, walking a little way down the track. They search for around five minutes but find nothing.

"Either those were the worst assassins to ever exist or…" Porthos trails off as Athos finishes his sentence for him.

"Or they didn't exist." The older man nods. "I'll call Treville and let him know." 

"Guess I'm driving then." Porthos agrees and gets in the driver seat. He's vaguely aware of Athos muttering something about sticking to speed limits and grins. 

\--------------------------------------------

It's fairly easy to say Aramis spent the entire ride back to Paris asleep. D'Artagnan can hardly blame him although it did mean he had to visit a service station to grab some coffee before he fell asleep too and killed himself, Aramis and Agnes. 

Agnes spent the journey either singing softly along to the radio or staring out the window which made the five hours rather awkward. D'Artagnan considered kissing the ground when he got out the car.  
Aramis woke up in time to help Agnes out the car and round to Constance's. Constance made tea.

"Please tell me you're going to find the baby." She hisses when she gets the two boys alone. Agnes stares into her cup, clutching at a blanket which belongs to her son.

"Of course we are. What kind of horrible people do you take us for?" Aramis asks, shaking his head and yawning. Constance gives him a look and he raises his hands defensively. "Fine. I'm going." He sighs and leaves, closing the door as loud as he dares. 

"D'Artagnan, do me a favour and go buy some cookies?" Constance presses money into his hand and kisses his cheek quickly before going back to comfort Agnes. 

That's how D'Artagnan finds Porthos picking Aramis off the ground by the main road. His first thought is that the marksman has been hit by a car but it becomes clear he's uninjured. 

"'S alright. I got 'im." Porthos says before D'Artagnan can say anything. He nods, mouth twitching into a small smile for Athos as he walks past the three and into town.

Porthos shifts Aramis in his arms and the man in question nuzzles into his chest like a small animal. 

"He likes you. Can we keep him?" Athos jokes, moving to the driver seat and then waving as he drives off. Porthos sighs again and walks into the garrison. 

Athos has left the door unlocked for him so he can get in and unceremoniously dump Aramis on the sofa. 

"Whatcha got there?" Porthos asks, sliding into the kitchen and opening the cupboard to get out mugs for coffee.

"The file in Aramis' car. They went to collect a baby it seems. And the mother…" Athos reads out to him, spinning on his stool to face Porthos.

"Probably with Constance and Flea. That seems to be where we dump chicks and dicks." He shrugs and Athos smiles a half smile.

"Marsac being the dick, I imagine." He says and Porthos nods. 

"Marsac being a major dick. I'm still not over it you know." He sighs, leaning against the counter. "I just don't understand how someone could do that to Aramis, especially if they love him." 

"Everyone loves him. He's addictive." Athos replies and the pair turn to look at the friend asleep on the sofa, hair falling into his face. 

"Not everyone loves him like we do though." Porthos reminds him as the kettle boils and pours, handing Athos a mug and taking one over to Aramis. "In't that right, Mis?" 

Aramis opens one eye and stares at him as Porthos comes really close while delivering coffee. 

"I know when you're awake." Porthos adds, answering the confused look. "Now get us up to speed and drink that."

\----------------------------------------------

"Hey." Aramis slides into the seat beside Agnes. The red haired woman stares into the fireplace, ignoring him. She has the woven blanket held tightly in her hands. "Agnes? Can I ask you something?"

"Depends." She answers after a long pause. Turning her head away from the flames, she stares at him instead. Aramis' heart goes out to her, the expression in her eyes is heart breaking.

"About your husband, Philip." Aramis explains and Agnes sniffs, wiping at her eyes.

"What about him? I suppose you'll want to ask how I could marry such a beast?" 

"What? Not at all; no." Aramis is startled by this. The file had mentioned something about Philip having a deformity but that by no means made the man a beast. "Why do you say that?"

"That's what everyone believed. I was his carer; everyone told me he was a monster but Philip had the gentlest heart. We hid all our life until I found out I was pregnant with Henry. He said- he said he didn't want to hide anymore and we walked through the village, proud." Agnes' breath hitches and Aramis reaches out to lay his hand over hers.

"You don't have to tell me anything you don't want to." He reassures her and she nods. 

"They killed him. They tore him away and beat him to death. The pavement is still stained with his blood." Agnes hiccups, trying hard to maintain her composure. "I can only imagine they've taken Henry for the same reason." 

"I promise we will do whatever we can to find him." Aramis says and squeezes her hand. The fire crackles gently in from of them. 

"Have you ever been in love?" Agnes asks after a pause. "Real love. The kind that leaves you incapable of living without the other person."

Aramis considers this for moment. He thinks about Isabelle- the girl he was to marry when he was younger-, he thinks about Marsac and the memories that felt so warm before Savoy. He nods slowly. "I have. I was to marry when I was 18. I loved her but… it didn't work out." 

"Only 18?" Agnes sounds surprised. People always seem surprised by Aramis' short list of relationships when he's a bigger flirt than Porthos, Athos and Flea combined. "And you've never loved since?"

"I may have done years ago but I never got to find out if it was real." That's a lie; he did find out. Shaking his head to clear Marsac from his head, Aramis lets go of Agnes' hand and folds his arms across his chest. His heart feels cold suddenly. 

"And there's no one now?" Agnes doesn't seem to believe him when he says there's no one and maybe it's because it's written on his face like a book. 

"No." Aramis shakes his head again. The soft pling of his phone alerts him to a text and he opens it, smiling.

'I go out for 5 minutes to get lunch and you go out. Where are you? I bought you something. -P x' 

"No." He adds again, mind blank for a second before it explodes with thoughts that never occurred to him before. Except on Porthos' birthday or when he found him down in the garage or when Porthos was shot or just generally… oh shit. Is he in love? "No."

"Alright." Agnes laughs, obviously sensing his distress. 

Aramis leaves ten minutes later with some more information on Henry and comes back to Porthos, Athos and D'Artagnan fighting on the carpet. 

"You so are! You so fricking are! Porthos loves-" 

"Heeeey Aramis." Athos sits up, sorting out his hair, eyes gleaming like a child told a massive secret. 

"Ah, gerroff me, biscuit." Porthos sighs, throwing D'Artagnan up and onto the sofa. 

"Biscuit?" Aramis frowns. 

"I can snap 'im in two and he'd probably taste nice with some cheese." Porthos answers and Athos snorts.

"Porthos got Chinese." The older musketeer says, tossing a box to Aramis. "I swear he nailed the order to a t."

"I like to know my friends." Porthos shrugs, catching his box with one hand when Athos throws it. D'Artagnan glares, getting off the sofa and picks his up pointedly. 

"So you spoke to Agnes." Athos says through a mouthful once they're all squashed on the sofa. 

"I should have taken some tissues. You know they beat her husband to death because he was disabled?" Aramis frowns and D'Artagnan makes a sad noise.

"That's horrible." He says and the others nod in agreement. "Some people are just sick."

A loud beeping from Athos' room makes all their heads turn. 

"Why do you have a bomb?" Aramis asks slowly as Athos leaps off the sofa.

"It's a tracking program." He says once he's returned, laptop in hand. "It's linked to the one D'Artgnan put on the car." He plugs it into the tv so they all can see what he's doing. Half the screen is full of formulae but the other half has a map with a pinpoint. "There." 

"That's where the car is. They may not have Henry there." Porthos reminds him and Athos shakes his head.

"It's a good place to start though, isn't it?" He sighs and Porthos nods.

"Let's get moving then." He gets up and Aramis groans.

"Can I not sit down for more than five minutes at a time?" He complains, taking his food with him as they grab their coats and pull on their boots.

"Don't worry. I'll drive." Athos pats his shoulder and Aramis considers this, turning on the burglar alarm and locking the door as he leaves. 

"Athos, I don't trust you with my baby. Nothing personal or anything but-" Aramis catches up with Athos who just smiles.

"Oh no, I understand. But, just so we're clear, who did last month's shopping?"

"You."

"And payed the water bill?"

"You but that-"

"And rewired your laptop?"

"Alright fine! You can drive my car!" Aramis hands him the keys and Athos grins. 

"Why thank you. So generous." He smirks, disappearing into the garage. Aramis groans.

"I hate all three of you." He complains loudly and it just met with laughter.

\---------------------------------------------

"This is a serious mission and you have the roof down and you're wearing shades, bobbing your heads to the music like you're so cool. I'm working with children." Constance sighs as they drive up beside her, parking the car neatly in the space. She's carrying three shopping bags which she dumps on D'Artagnan to confirm her ride back. Athos sets the roof to move back and switches off the engine once it's done. The others are already out of the car. 

D'Artagnan pushes his sunglasses up into his hair and looks around for the car they're tracking. "Over there." He points and heads towards the vehicle, the others close behind him. 

"What? That car?" Constance frowns, following them up the street. "The man driving it delivered a baby into the daycare centre." 

Athos' phone rings loudly and he pulls it from his pocket, moving away to answer it.

"So we need to go in and check but how do we make sure it's Henry and how do we do it quietly?" Porthos eyes the daycare centre carefully. He's vaguely aware that it has a high reputation so they have to be discrete. 

"He's got his name sown onto his blanket. And he's got green eyes if that helps." Aramis says and D'Artagnan turns his head sharply.

"What if we don't get him but we get someone else to do it? Someone you'd expect to go into a daycare centre and come out with a baby." The others turn their heads too so all three are looking at Constance. 

"Excuse me? What no!" She folds her arms across her chest. "No way. I'm not getting involved in any of your plans; they never work." 

Aramis pretends to be hurt, dramatically leaning back with a hand over his forehead. "Constance, my dear, you wound me."

"Shut up, Aramis. I'm not doing it." Constance snaps exasperatedly, shaking her head.

"There is an innocent child at risk and a distraught mother in your kitchen." Porthos reaches out to lay a hand on her shoulder. "All you have to do is go in, find Henry and get out." 

"How exactly? They'll know who dropped him off." Constance sighs. It was hopeless to protest against them but she makes a valid point now.

"Claim that you're Maria King." Athos rejoins the little group, making Constance jump. "Treville says he's got a man following her and she's heading to pick up Henry. Get in, say you're her and get out before she does turn up."

"Oh right. No pressure." Constance glares then yelps as they shove her forward towards the door. She flips them off before knocking on the door and being let inside by a rather muscly man. 

She fixes her jacket as she stands in the brightly painted hallway, the man having claimed to be going to fetch 'Janet'. The paintings of mice in wellington boots and raincoats make Constance smile as she remembers having similar things in the cloakroom of her pre-school. 

"Good afternoon. How can I help you?" A short lady with a lined face and greying hair appears, smiling pleasantly. 

"Oh, I'm Mrs King. I'm here to pick up Henry." Constance says, smiling back and silently wishing she had asked for Henry's surname and why Maria wants Henry. However, this information seems to be enough for Janet who nods and gestures for Constance to follow her. 

The boys and girls running around stop and stare as Constance's walks past, one or two muttering about how pretty she is. 

"Could I just ask you to fill out this form for me while I fetch Henry for you?" Janet passes a pink sheet of paper to Constance when they reach her office and hands her a pen. Constance sits in one of the chairs and stares at the questions.

Name is easy to fill in and she puts in her birthday but with two months extra added for safety. 

Her phone is tucked in her jeans so she gets it out and texts Athos, demanding to know what Henry's last name is and what Maria's relation to the boy is. 

The response reads 'King. Dunno relation but put mother or aunt because you look that age. Maria will probably go grandmother mind.' 

_How useful_ , Constance thinks as she finishes the sheet and signs in a illegible way. 

Janet returns with Henry as soon as she's done and hands him over. He's got green eyes and a blanket with his name like Aramis said and Constance takes him, cradling him and kissing his forehead to make it seem more realistic. 

"Thank you very much. Oh and Miss Janet?" Constance turns before she leaves the office. "Have a lovely day."

"You too, Mrs King." Janet smiles as escorts Constance to the door. 

The second Constance is outside, she lets her facade drop, losing the smile as she walks briskly back to the boys who are sitting- very awkwardly- in the car. 

D'Artagnan leans across the seat to open the door for her and Constance gets in beside him, apologising when Athos complains as D'Artagnan shifts up and squashes him a little. 

"Aramis." Porthos says warningly. "Start the car now and drive the long way home."  
Aramis doesn't need telling twice and he pulls out into the road, making a turn and heading away from the daycare and Maria King who's stepping out her car.

"Treville." Aramis uses the car to dial the garrison. "Maria King isn't going to find what she's looking for. Do we have a backup plan when the centre worries?" 

"I've got Flea on it." Treville answers, rather vague about what 'it' entails. There's a silence and it's Constance who asks the question first.

"What is she doing?" She says then makes soft cooing noises when Henry starts crying.

"Claiming Louis King and The Cardinal wants to see Maria urgently. While driving a limousine with DST written on the side. Maria won't even ring the doorbell." Treville explains, the audio crackling when Aramis drives under a section of trees. "I need you four to bring Henry and Agnes to my office tomorrow morning. Aramis, don't forget your night shift." 

Aramis groans after Treville hangs up and resists the urge to smash his face against the wheel. "Am I not allowed to sleep? I collapsed like three times yesterday but does anyone care? No!" 

"I pay the bills." Athos says.

"I cook your food." D'Artagnan reminds him. 

"I just smuggled a child out a daycare centre." Constance says indignantly before returning to softly singing to Henry.

"I just don't care generally." Porthos shrugs after a pause and everyone laughs. Everyone is also aware that it totally isn't true as Porthos probably cares the most.

\--------------------------------------------------

Aramis drops his keys twice before he gets into the apartment at 3:45 am. He's tired, cold and ever damp as a drain burst and emptied water all over him. 

Athos is lounging on the sofa with half a cup of coffee on the table and a book on his lap, reading glasses on along with a serious expression. "Hey." He says quietly without looking up.

"Hey. You not gone to bed yet?" Aramis sighs, raking a hand through his hair and shrugging off his jacket. He hooking it over his arm and wanders round the breakfast bar into the kitchen to throw it into the washing machine. He pulls his shirt off too after dumping his belt- and equipment- on the counter. 

"Obviously not." Athos replies before sighing loudly and closing his book. "Besides, I wanted to make sure my best friend made it through the door and to bed." 

Aramis tilts his head, smiling a little. "Best friend, huh? Make me some coffee then?" It's a joke as if he has coffee now then he really won't get any sleep. 

"Nice try. You need me to get a shower ready for you?" Athos gets to his feet, stepping into his fluffy blue slippers- ones that match his blue pyjamas. 

"God, would you?" Aramis can't quite believe Athos is offering to do stuff for him. Normally he just laughs and watches Aramis trip over the rug. 

"Course." Athos smiles. "Put my mug in the dishwasher though." He holds out the china to Aramis who takes it before he disappears to fetch Aramis' pyjamas and turn the shower on. 

"Why are you being nice? It's weird." Aramis leans against the corridor wall, making Athos jump as he comes out the bathroom. "Appreciated but weird."

"I feel like our job is too heartless so I'm doing something kind to avoid losing mine completely." Athos explains briefly and Aramis pulls him into a hug. "God, you stink."

"Yeah." Aramis grins, stepping back. "A drain emptied itself on me." 

"Go have a shower, you fool." Athos shakes his head and rolls his eyes, walking to his own door.

"Night, Athos." Aramis calls after him.

"Night, Aramis." Comes the reply before the door closes.

\-------------------------------------------------

"What on earth does Maria King want with Henry?" Porthos frowns, leaning against Treville's office wall. 

Agnes sits by the fireplace in an armchair, humming to her son who's fast asleep. Aramis is perched on the arm beside her with D'Artagnan, Athos and Constance in the other three chairs.

"I asked Flea to look into the medical records of Henry and his father Philip. Philip is Louis King's brother." Treville explains, leaning forward on his elbows, desk littered with files and paperwork. 

There's a silence where D'Artagnan's jaw drops. "What?" 

"Maria King is Henry's grandmother." Treville clarifies and Constance shoots an impressed look at Athos who shrugs, clearly pleased he guessed that. 

"My little Henry? Related to the most powerful man in France?" Agnes' eyes widen and she turns from Aramis to Treville and then back again. "What does she want with him? She never even saw Philip; she abandoned him." 

"We have reason to believe she will use Henry to gain control of the DST. We don't know how but the Cardinal has suspicions that she may try to adopt him herself or have Anne and Louis take him." Treville leans back when they all burst into questions at once. "I don't know how!" He repeats loudly and they shut up.

"I'm not letting them take Henry." Aramis shakes his head, laying a hand on Agnes' shoulder. Agnes looks up at him with watery eyes and smiles.

"Aramis, there is little we can do. It's not as easy as smuggling him out of the city." Treville turns his computer screen round to show them ten CCTV cameras. "These are on the borders currently and these-" Treville taps nine men, one in each screen,"- are men working for Maria King." 

"What about the bridge? There's no one there. We could get Henry out then Maria's plan would fail." Aramis suggest eagerly.

"She'll track him down for certain. She's done it once, she'll do it again." Athos reminds them all and Agnes' face goes pale.

"So you want to just hand Henry over?" Aramis protests. "No way."

"We have no other choice, Aramis. We can't get him out the city without Maria seeing and both of them will never be safe." Treville says carefully, aware Aramis could snap at any moment. If the Marsac incident was a warning then Treville has taken it. "There's two men coming to collect Henry at midday under the Cardinal's orders so do not mess around."

"Yes, sir." Aramis nods, deflating like a balloon but both Athos and Porthos notice the mischievous look in his eyes. The five trail out the room and down into the courtyard. 

"So that's it?" Constance doesn't believe for a second that they will let this happen but she seems to be proven wrong by the sad nods. "Oh god. I'm sorry, Agnes." She hugs the mother tightly, careful not to squash Henry. "I'm sorry."

 

\--------------------------------------------------------

"What are you planning?" D'Artagnan appears out of no where and blocks Aramis' way out.

"Oh for goodness sake!" The man throws his hands in the air. "I'm going to improve my car because the roof is getting rusty. I promise I'm not doing anything stupid." 

D'Artagnan doesn't believe him but he steps aside and Aramis heads out the apartment to the garage. So maybe he's not improving his car but he's got a plan.

Agnes is waiting for him by a small black ford that he's borrowing. It's not in the best condition but it works and that's all he needs.

"You ready?" He asks her as she gets in the back, Henry tucked against her chest. 

"I guess." She shrugs, putting her purse away. "Thank you." There's so many things she's grateful for; understanding, saving Henry, the money he's given her to start a new life, the apartment he's renting in her name. 

"Thank me when we get out." Aramis laughs and starts the engine.

\-----------------------------------------------------

"Agnes, when it's my turn to cross, I need you to use the footbridge." Aramis says, leaning against the car. The pair are standing around in the car park along with the other people waiting to cross the bridge. "I'll take Henry, I'll keep him safe. I promise." 

"Afternoon, sir. Ma'am." A sly voice makes Agnes jump and Aramis sigh. He turns round and comes face to face with Athos, Porthos and D'Artagnan. 

"You didn't really think we'd not notice, did you?" D'Artagnan shakes his head, a huge smile on his face. 

"Are you going to take Henry back? We won't get along if you are." Aramis folds his arms, moving to stand in front of Agnes. 

"What kind of heartless monsters do you think we are?" Athos asks, raising an eyebrow. "It would have been nice to help out before you decided to do something reckless, though."

"Yeah. Sorry." Aramis apologises half-heartedly. 

"No no. Let's keep it impossible and slightly suicidal." Athos rolls his eyes. "What are we doing?"

"I need you guys to make sure we don't get issues with insurance or the company who owns the bridge." Aramis says after thinking about it.

"Aramis, what in the name of holy sanity are you planning on doing?" Porthos says, rather alarmed given the very impressive ability Aramis has of getting himself into dangerous situations.

\-----------------------------------------------

Agnes is on the footbridge, walking across to her new life, when it happens. She doesn't see exactly what happens but she hears the screech of tires, groaning of metal and a minor explosion as a car hits the water below the bridge and the top half bursts into flames. 

She doesn't care if Maria's guards are staring down at the car, searching for her son as she screams his name. She doesn't notice whether or not Aramis swims to the surface as her vision is blurred by tears. 

She doesn't know who it is who pushes her along and over the bridge but she does know there's a hole in her heart.

Aramis does see what happens because he's in the car. He's been in many shows for extravagant tricks to sending the car he's in off the bridge is no trouble. 

Before he's even hit the water, he's pulled off the steering wheel so he can get out. His door is already partly open so it doesn't take long for the water to almost fill the car and he can open the door before swimming out. His shoulder feels like it's on fire- probably because he didn't brace himself properly and rammed it against the steering wheel.

Swimming slowly underwater, he makes it to the other side of the bridge and gets out, careful not to be seen. He can hear Porthos announcing there was a man and a baby in that car and the flashes of news camera's echo in his ears. 

"Aramis?" Athos calls his name quietly, no more than a whisper in the current chaos. Leaning out the window of his Land Rover, the older man beckons and Aramis staggers up the bank and to the car, climbing into the back before Athos drives away. 

There's about seven large towels in the back which makes Aramis smile as he strips down to his pants to dry himself off. 

"You are the biggest idiot. You could have been killed." Athos shakes his head although Aramis can hardly miss the smile on his face. 

"Did you get Henry out?" He asks and Athos nods. 

"Constance has him. We called her as soon as Agnes started walking and asked her to bring towels, a first aid kit, a baby seat and a news crew." Athos explains and Aramis snorts.

"That's a normal list of stuff to ask for." He starts laughing, towels wrapped around him as he leans back against the seat. He's sure he hears Athos laugh a little too but he must be imagining it.

\----------------------------------------------------

Agnes wants nothing to do with the musketeers anymore. Thanks to them, her son is dead. And Aramis too. Are they truly not bothered? They were laughing down the phone. 

She recognises Aramis' convertible and pulls her jacket tighter around herself as rain begins to fall. 

"Good evening." The window winds down and Agnes' jaw drops.

"Aramis?" She gapes as he steps out the car, the others getting out on the other side.

"I need to apologise to you. Maria's men were there so you had to look convincing. Now, she's been taken care of and is moving to Spain actually after she heard the news but it's a shame really. Because it's false." Aramis explains, a smile slowly forming on his face. Constance steps round the car with a bundle in her arms. 

"Henry?" Agnes squeaks and hugs Aramis so tightly that he may explode. She takes her son and kisses Constance's cheek as a thank you. "I cannot thank you all enough. My little boy."

"We've changed records and certificates. Henry King is a common enough name to be easy to manage. Here." Aramis passes her a large folder. "Birth certificates. Medical records. All for your new life together as a family."

"I would ask you to come with me you know." Agnes says softly so only Aramis can hear. "But you already have a family." She looks past him to the others- Athos, Porthos, D'Artagnan and Constance- who are grinning like lunatics. "I hope you find love soon, Aramis. You deserve ever bit of happiness."

Agnes turns and heads back into the main section of town after her goodbyes and Aramis turns to his friends.

"Successful day?" He asks and Athos shrugs.  
"I'm not sure. You see, Porthos promised to take me out for a couple of pints but Mr King has invited us to another fancy dinner party." He smirks.

"Oh no!" Constance sighs sarcastically. "We shall have to go to this event in posh dresses and eat excellent food and maybe- god forbid it- have desert."

"I'll text Flea then." Porthos laughs, sliding into the passenger seat and putting his feet on the dash. 

"I call dibs on the shower first!" D'Artagnan yells and is met with groans and protests.

Aramis can't keep the smile off his face the whole way home. He does have a family… even if they are all insane.

\-------------------------------------------------------------------

From **'Treville'**  
To **'Aramis'**

'That was a really stupid thing to do. You could have been killed. However, I'm pretty sure we're stuck with you for a while yet. I'm proud of you, Aramis, you and the others. You did well.'

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you very much for reading!  
> I'm very sorry it took so long to write this but I had exams etc... But I have 6 weeks off so hopefully I can get the next episode done! Ha!  
> Comments and kudos make my day so thank you, you lovely people.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! I hope you enjoyed it because I love writing it!  
> Comments and kudos are appreciated.


End file.
